


Like A Rolling Stone

by Cyrelia_J



Category: One Piece
Genre: Anal Sex, Attempt at Humor, Canon-Typical Violence, Exhibitionism, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Manipulation, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Voyeurism, fujoshi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2015-09-03
Packaged: 2018-03-02 04:29:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2799614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyrelia_J/pseuds/Cyrelia_J
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a rather torrid dream involving the slow slow beam induced near misstep on Foxy’s ship, Sanji needs to act quickly get Zoro out of his head before he loses his mind completely. What better way to defeat temptation than to submit to its call?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note: So I broke down and had to get this One Piece thing out of my system. No plot just pr0n well in this part build up to pr0n but yeah. I apologize for any errors in characterization as I’m not as familiar with these guys but anyway… Bonus to anyone who gets the character reference from another series entirely.
> 
> C&C always welcome and thanks for reading!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: So I broke down and had to get this One Piece thing out of my system. No plot just pr0n well in this part build up to pr0n but yeah. I apologize for any errors in characterization as I’m not as familiar with these guys but anyway… Bonus to anyone who gets the character reference from another series entirely.
> 
> C&C always welcome and thanks for reading!

The subconscious mind is a fickle creature. The words spoken some years back by a traveling hypnotist more charlatan than magician at Baratie are the first words to enter his thoughts upon waking. He thinks then that his second thought ought to be a vehement mental protest that such an image should pervade his sleeping mind so insidiously. Sanji, is not a man given to such wastefulness of food or of thoughts however. His eyes open slowly and he looks up watching the map of wood grain above his head, the world, the faint light allowing his eyes to focus further. Blindly, he reaches for a cigarette and brings it to his lips thoughtfully as he considers the curiosity that is the “slow slow” beam.

The body, for thirty seconds, is hatefully slowed- locked within the process of completing the last signaled action from the brain. But the mind, the mind has every bit of that time to process the surrounding world and act accordingly. The mind, he found is capable of all sorts of contemplations and thoughts while time passes in that vacuum. Sanji brings the lighter up flicking it lazily open while his internal clock provides him with an update of just how long he has to consider everything that warrants his attention this morning. Now, like that frozen span of time the hammock cradles his body and renders the immediate need for the mind to focus on physical action unnecessary. The draw of the cigarette, the pull of warm smoke, breathing in, breathing out, is a natural action, as natural a breath as any other.

Next piss. Shower. Shave. Dress. Cook. Sanji considers the next fifteen minutes he should have to consider this- such thoughts occupying his mind during meal preparation would be unforgivable.  He inhales deeply the warmth blooming down his throat turning his head. Tuesday clothes, his mind supplies him as he gets up and quickly grabs the garments from his trunk and heads for the bathroom. Automatic. And now to consider as he lets the wonderful subconscious mind take control. He shuts the bathroom door considering the dream, realizing the problem as he stands in front of the bathroom holding his prick in one hand.

“Ch’” Smoke blows out his nostrils as he considers the problem sticking straight up, hard and insistent. “This is all your fault you shitty swordsman.” More accurately the fault of the subconscious but his own mind makes a far less desirable target for his ire than Zoro. Sanji closes his eyes and breathes in deeply thinking of Baratie and the old man imparting the ancient sea dog’s wisdom of getting rid of morning wood to his younger self. Zeff’s voice, face, the very idea of his presence there rather than the never heeded advice are the true catalyst for dissipating his hard on. Sanji laughs softly relieving his bladder. “Shitty old man’s still good for something even way out here.” He tosses the butt of the cigarette in the bowl. _“Hey Sanji, you think the toilet water flushes backwards in the grand line?”_ Luffy’s voice echoes in his head as he watches the swirl of the water. Flush. Flush. Ten flushes later and a lecture from Nami he’d-

He pauses to savor that memory of Nami as he steps into the shower. Control. Control. He maintains that control over his body even as he allows every photographic greedy recollection to flit thorough his mind, every curve, every incidental or deliberate brush of skin. Sanji sighs deeply as the hot water hits his chest. Without the trigger, without the proper response he doesn’t allow those bodily reactions where they’re inconvenient. When Nami decides, when Robin decides that his attentions are welcome beyond the realm of casual flirting then he can allow such things to the forefront but until then… Soap, cloth, left right, front back Sanji bows his head letting the spray hit the back of his neck for a moment as his eyes close and he takes the time to consider the problem currently _beyond_ his careful control.

 

That dream.

 

Sanji sucks in air between his teeth in a small hiss as his hand dropping the cloth slides from slick stomach down to damp dripping. The image plays with vivid violence. The narrowly averted collision of reality in his dream melded to bodies crashing, to lips meeting, to skin on skin with a hint of rough morning stubble not shaved away scraping his face. The automatic avoidance of his memory became hands gripping his shoulders shoving them back hard to the wooden planks with that scrape to his neck rubbing skin raw, the weight of Zoro’s body pushing the wind out of him as he pushed back grinding, long fingers kneading strong corded back muscles biting back moans and-

 

Shit.

 

Sanji feels in the passing seconds of recreated dream dust behind his eyes that his cock has once more risen, swollen stiff beneath his fingers. He presses his lips tight feeling the phantom cigarette between them, a small growl rumbling from his throat as he gives a squeeze, a long drawn out drag of his calloused fingers. Sanji swears softly beneath his breath, not needing to see, only feel, fanning his fingers out, rocking against his palm like his horny bastard dream self. He doesn’t have much time. He doesn’t have half as much time as he needs to rub, to rut, to bring himself off half as good as he needs to. He had all the time in the world asleep, the subconscious letting hours of pawing, grinding, possessive gripping passing in the rapid movement of flickering pupils beneath his eyelids before letting his body wake.

 _Five minutes, shithead. Get out of the shower, get back to work and-_ And he can consider what needs to be done about this while he preps. The stream of considering conscious flowing freely during breakfast would be unforgivable but… But he can divert his attention during the hour of chopping, blanching- a thousand other rote tasks before the big cook up- he can take that time to decide what to do about this. _Heh, so you’re gonna do something after all then?_ He gives his cock another meaningful squeeze, tipping his head back to the warm spray with a groan. _Yeah, definitely gotta do something about this situation._

And that determination being made Sanji wastes no further time in going about the rest of his routine. Robin is the only one up with him when the sun rises up over the calm sea. Sitting back on the lounge chair on the deck he sees first her eyes scanning the pages of the book and then the peek of cleave from the open buttons of her shirt. Sanji snaps a mental photograph but chastises himself when his greeting and attention are far too distant in his recollection. That is not to say that Roronoa Zoro is all encompassing his thoughts but rather the matter of the situation of his subconscious as a whole. Sanji allows her perfume to distract him counting just a few scant millimeters closer that she allows him to lean. He tries to remember where he stands in his own calculation of personal space allowance, of daring. His eyes briefly flick to the text of the book and he curses that moment of inattention. Setback number one. This _has_ to be resolved quickly.

Robin notices. He can tell with that little upturn of her mouth that she senses his distraction and he forces himself not to redouble his efforts. He promises her fruit, a smoothie for the complexion- as if she needs it. In spite of himself his eyes track up to the crow’s nest as he walks to the kitchen seeing a lazy foot resting on the well worn wood. He draws his eyes quickly back in front of him as he reaches for a cigarette, shaking wet hair to clear his head. Behind him, robin laughs softly returning her full attention to the book thinking that she’s joined a very interesting crew indeed.

Sanji has already put that past him sleeves rolled up knife in hand as the vegetables are chopped with speedy efficiency. He sighs at the fridge knowing any marinating of the meat will have to wait- Luffy might very well eat it raw if he catches a whiff. _Actually…_ Brine. Right, he’ll brine it. Solves that problem now… _Now for bigger problems. More glaring problems._ The problem that’s going to set back months of careful work on both lovely Robin and Nami if he can’t scratch this one damn itch. _The shity subconscious mind alright._ His body he can control in the worst of cases but this… Sanji blinks as he thinks of that dream again seeing the unevenness of both celery and carrots. Zeff would shit a brick. Well shit if he was watching himself cutting in such a haphazard manner... Sanji smokes slowly, thoughtfully as he resigns himself to inferior _camponata_ and decides for the day he just needs to get through, get laid, and get back this nice normal routine tomorrow.

 _Brine. Boil. Grill. Plan. Seduce. Fuck._ Simple as that. Just like cooking, line of the ingredients, execute the plan and it’s nothing but a _fait accompli_ for the seasoned chef. Soufflés fall but they can be fixed. A good chef controls everything in the kitchen it doesn’t control him. Sanji lets the cigarette’s nicotine calm him as he chops, moves on to the onion and closes his eyes letting himself slice by feel, knife flying, the art of the culinary design washing over him, comforting him as he feels the sharp blade easily dice through the sweet yellow flesh. He works quickly, distancing himself from the immediacy, from the urgency and works every vegetable into the proper bowl, measures spices and begins the water for the 12 hour brine. The sugar is an indulgence but the tryptophan will make the rest more lethargic- likely the shitty swordsman too but the fucker’s half sloth so Sanji thinks little of it. _Bread. A good heavy bread should be readied. Pasta. Definitely pasta. It’ll be more work but the heaviness will be good. Nami-san says the weather will be good the next few days at least, should be no threats so a good meal, a good sleep will be better._

Sanji has already decided their shared space will have to suffice. But that was never in question to begin with. Living at Baratie the notion of privacy was an alien concept until he’s been promoted and earned his own room and he’d long grown accustomed to the various sounds of sleep, sexual gratification singular, plural, male, female. He chuckles around the cigarette remembering Zeff’s fifteenth birthday present and how the shitty old man had paid for the services of one Madame Divinity. Divine, double D, deep throat, a whole slew of D words to alliterate that description and his adolescent self had merely looked up and sneered when Zeff indicated the table where she was seated. _“Hey what’s this, you couldn’t get new knives for the kitchen instead shitty old man?”_ That was a lesson that turned him from a boy to a man who’d emerged from the bunk did to toasts and cheers from the after hours dining room.

“Oh Madame, madame…” he half sings half whispers to the plate in hand that he uses to weigh down the meat. “I am forever in your debt as long as I live.” He moves in to the long long eggplants or whatever silly name the old man had given him after discarding the spent butt. Impractical, some might say obscene in their design but he’d tasted one of the nightshades earlier and it would make a perfect _camponata_ even without the globe shape. He originally thought it was one of the more exotic variety but no it was far too dark and straight. Sanji works to clean the shaft quickly of each one, hands efficiently stroking, sliding, removing dirt and he takes one, considering the problem, considering the plan and considering most of all if one thing will feel like another and he finds himself slowing, squeezing, talking to himself softly, his voice just a touch too husky to be properly passed off as amusement. “No way… there is no way that shitty swordsman would come close to-

“Come close to what?”

Sanji does not startle easily. He didn’t hear Zoro’s footsteps. He didn’t smell the usual musk of sweat- except that can’t be possible since Zoro last bathed four days ago by Sanji’s count- which means that Sanji has likely been far more absorbed in this bizarre vegetable fondling more deeply than he thought. Bad. Very bad. Sanji carefully, slowly sets the eggplant down not turning to look at him. There are two more in need of rinsing and defiantly, he takes another slightly longer, thicker one and as Zoro steps closer he definitely smells it now. Sanji breathes in deeply wishing he still had the warm tobacco to inhale, wishing he had something with which to occupy his tongue. He dunks the eggplant in the basin in the sink, fringe obscuring whatever movement Zoro is making to his left- at least as far as that dense idiot is concerned it does. Sanji can see him well enough as he carefully slides his right hand over the glossy skin.

“Maybe the ship should’ve been named the “Rolling Stone” since they’re not supposed to collect any moss.”

He’s proud of that one. Head bowed perhaps a bit more than it ought to be he smirks, thumb carefully polishing the skin up, down, attacking the grit with a careful calloused grip. 

“So can I get to the fridge?” Zoro asks as he indicates the large brining bucket blocking the door, “Or should I come back when you’re finished jerking off dinner?”

“Jealous, moss ball?” Sanji tosses the line out without proper consideration for the context as he dunks the eggplant for another rinse. _Fucking idiot. If it were anyone else. If it were a normal decent guy and not some shitty meathead this would be a lot easier._ He rubs a bit harder. _Couldn’t at least give me the decency of an hour to think about-_

“Thought you liked women, pervert.” Zoro circles him from behind seeming to have decided to move the bucket himself. Sanji throws his leg out without turning, heel catching the side of it just as Zoro gives a sharp tug. The water slicked sides slip from between his fingers, sloshing water soaked swordsman as he lands on his ass. Sanji feels that tug of a grin remaining on his face as Zoro swears. 

“I didn’t say you could move it, now did I, shithead?” Sanji sets the eggplant aside picking up the last, long enough but a little shorter, slightly curved like a dark violet saber. He considers it a moment as Zoro gets to his feet, considers the comment as he balances easily on one leg holding the large bucket still. 

 “I like _chateaubriand_ ,” he said at last washing the eggplant. “But that doesn’t mean I would turn down even boiled shoe leather if I was starving.” He strokes the vegetable just a little harder than necessary letting the dirt turned mud flick off and hit Zoro’s brined dampened shirt. He didn’t think it would take much but that has Zoro on his feet standing right next to him in his face and Sanji again smells him, practically tastes him near as he is.

“Just who are you calling boiled shoe leather, “Mr. Prince”?” he growls dangerously. Sanji sets the last eggplant down, wiping his hands dry on a towel. He lowers his leg and reaches for a cigarette, slow, deliberate, letting Zoro take this conversation at the pace that _he_ dictates. He lights it carelessly, the slight twitch of his leg the only indicator of how excited he is by the direction this is going.

He takes a long slow drag enjoying the warmth blossoming from his chest. Out of the corner of his eye he can see the shirt clinging to Zoro’s well muscled torso. Well who would’ve guessed boiled shoe leather could seem so appetizing after all. _It’s been too long. Way too long. You’ve never even been with a man and how your subconscious, your hormones, whatever the reason here you are thinking about moss head. Well… c’e la vie, right?_ After all, here’s an opportunity to avoid most of the guesswork and headache and while there’s a certain thrill to the pursuit of a beautiful women, a glance, an exchange of subtleties and a beautiful dance there is also an equal thrill to certainty and Zoro’s earlier question wasn’t exactly one he’d have expected to fully the insult if he’d been truly making sport. _Mmm, no use in being coy about it then._ He exhales casually, infuriating Zoro by the way he sees shoulders bunch and tense.

“Hey-“ A hand on his shoulder. He lets himself enjoy it hedonistically, lets the hard grip, the power in that hand excite him. He wants to fight- part of him would love nothing more than to sweep Zoro’s feet out from under him, crack him good on the head and send him flying for his continual interruptions, his boorishness, his plain shitty mossy unpleasantness. And then there is that insidious subconscious that is becoming more fiercely insistently… conscious the more he is consciously aware of Zoro’s rather real physical presence. And that hand tightens the longer Sanji remains silent as if he could push him to his knees, submit him by that grip alone. There was a woman once who’d done that. A ruthless woman who’d by stopped with her crew and a swordsman he’d guessed was at least half as proficient as Zoro judging by the way he’d carried himself. Red haired, fiery not unlike Nami and God had she ever given him two nights to remember after paying for a week’s worth of food for just their small crew. 

Sanji wears a smirk as he turns to face Zoro taking another disaffected drag on the cigarette. _Bet she’d teach you a thing or two as well, asshole._ He tosses his head leaving no room for misinterpretation. _Maybe_ _I_ _will too_. It’s the eyes. Cold, hot, he can always tell by the eyes when they really want him or they really want him to fuck off… Not that it makes him stop trying regardless. He sees that spark of recognition when he allows the demeanor of his face to change and as dense as Zoro is it seems there are some instinctual human signals to which even _he’s_ not entirely oblivious.

“Figure it out, or is the moss growing _inside_ your head too?” he doesn’t speak the words quite as harshly as usual. He taunts him but not to fight not exactly. Which isn’t to say he’s not ready to kick Zoro’s ass if things head in that direction but they don’t seem to be- not yet at least. That hand is still there, warm, strong, but Zoro drops it with a sleepy eyed challenging look. He snorts with his usual annoyance.

“Y’know, you sure got a funny way of telling a guy you wanna fuck.” 

“That doesn’t sound like a ‘no’,” Sanji answers letting the excitement take over, letting the warm flush of anticipation rise from his chest blossoming outward. He can feel it picking up like those moments when Nami lets him see that look of consideration, that unguarded “I’m thinking about it” expression that tells him his attentions will one day bear fruit if he stays the course. 

But this doesn’t stop at that quick flash of dangling anticipation. He does not allow that careful instinct to let the wave pass and recede with the tide. He lets it crash on the surf, lets it burn, lets everything boiling remain at that peak, instincts acute and sharp as if he truly is gearing up for a fight. It Is that heightened awareness that allows him to hear more acutely the breathing of the man in front of him increase just that small perceptible amount. He sees that flare of nostrils, wonders at whatever primitive exchange is passing subtly between their two bodies as he becomes aware of just how close Zoro is standing to him. He turns, inhale, exhale, waiting, watching, seeing Zoro’s eyes flicker up, down, considering. _So he either likes men some small amount or he’s just as hard up as I am._ He doesn’t particularly consider that since neither should affect his decision but… But there is, Sanji admits to himself a certain narcissistic thrill when he thinks that there may have been desire somewhere in their heated rivalry.  

Sanji licks his lips in spite of himself and can feel the hairs on the back of his neck bristle when Zoro chuckles amused and walks past him back to the fridge. 

“Why are you trying to be so cool all of a sudden? Don’t I get a ‘Mellorine’ or a ‘Zoro-chan’ for all the shit you’ve given me?” He gives the bucket an experimental kick sloshing more of the brine. Sanji can feel that heat rise torn between fury and horny thinking maybe he’ll just give Zoro a good kick to the head and-  And Zoro is talking again which Sanji has to blink and clear his head to hear. “…this damn thing and maybe I’ll consider it.”

“Consider it?” He asks taking a few lazy steps. “As big a mess you’ve made I should make you clean the floor in here with nothing but a toothbrush like they do in the marines.” Sanji bends down, cigarette pressed between his lips as he moves the bucket closer to the steering wheel as out of the way as he can manage. Behind him he can hear Zoro noisily rummaging and he turns just in time to see sloppy careless gulping from the large wooden cup.

“Make me? Unless you plan on hypnotizing my with your eyebrows ‘cause that’s the only way _that’s_ happening when it’s your own damn fault to begin with.” He takes another obnoxious drink and finds the cup kicked clear out of his hand splashing the remainder of the water on him in the process. Zoro swears as Sanji looks at the water soaking shirt to skin somehow even more tightly than before. He can vividly see the fabric sucked into every crevice of muscle, hug and shape and he takes an appreciative drag stepping out of the way as Zoro swings at him.

“Shit, you stupid love cook what the hell was that for?!” Sanji blocks another punch with his left leg, gritting his teeth yelling back far too distracted.

“I don’t know, okay!” Which is true. A hundred percent true. A hundred percent true that he’s been too long without a woman because there’s no other reason that his subconscious could be so wildly out of control over one- admittedly torrid and vivid- dream.

He’s almost certain that Patty once told him if you leave it go for too long it falls off. He’s never been too certain on that point after any innumerable bouts of frustration but one thing does stand out as Zoro catches his dropping leg sweeping him on his back that he’d never be caught so openly under normal circumstances. He thinks the cigarette went flying off somewhere but he doesn’t exactly have time to look, bringing a knee to Zoro’s midsection with the intent of rolling them both over. That doesn’t exactly go as planned, Zoro planted like a shitty tree and he blows the last few wisps of smoke thinking that they were right when they told him being too long at sea without a good lay could turn a man completely crazy.

 

He smells Zoro again as the other leans in with a soft growl to his ear and that knee falters.

 

“So, cook, are we gonna fight or fuck?”

 

Sanji takes a deep breath thinking he’s never been so damn hard in his life. 

 

“How about both?” And with that he squares his foot and kicks him hard enough to send him flying backwards outside the door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for your positive feedback. This has been a lot of fun to write. I should have known this would never stay 2 chapters. Shooting for 3 in any case. So close to the smut I can taste it. Warning for language, and some attempt at humor and a weird mix of voyeurism/exhibitionism that's not particularly intentional but pretty unavoidable. Also bonus points for anyone guessing the 2 random anime references in this and part 1. Enjoy and thanks for reading!

There are days when Zoro has no idea what the hell is wrong with his dick. His brain, sensible thing that it is has spend the past several hours trying to reconcile the shit in perspective of Sanji, weirdo cook extraordinaire from dickhead rival to dickhead fuckbuddy. His dick on the other hand has been jumping like a dog with a pile of meaty bones in front of it at just the faint possibility of having something to rub on or rub _in_ that’s not his hand. It’s not a particularly welcome reminder. Desire. Lust. Those are the sorts of distractions that he cannot allow himself. If he’s to become the greatest swordsman, if he’s to become without peer in the entirety of the world then such things have no place in his daily training. Except of course when such needs make themselves such a nuisance they won’t stand for being ignored. But that’s what his right hand is there for- left as Johnny once told him when he wants to pretend it’s someone else. Zoro turns his left hand over absently as he sits on the bench watching Sanji turn the second round of meat over on the grill erected over the stove. 

That long suppressed juvenile part of his mind giggles at that word; erect. Zoro sighs, stabbing the wooden table with his fork in warning to Luffy’s meat questing hand without needing to glance down. Good for his reflexes. Bad for his concentration. Maybe that stupid eyebrow really _had_ hypnotized him after all. He grunts in response to something Luffy says, Luffy or Usopp he’s not particularly sure. More than likely it’s Lufy whining about his stinginess or complaining that he’s still hungry. What Zoro _is_ sure of is that whatever itch that damn cook has left him needing to scratch the fight they had earlier only made it that much worse. And sitting there in the hot kitchen while the stove is still going may be making Chopper across the table sleepy but all it’s doing is making him impatient and short tempered. He notes that Nami hasn’t made any annoying requests reminding him of his debt in the process which means she’s either busy with work or his bad mood has somehow created a big “Do Not Disturb” aura around him to anyone even remotely paying attention.

“C’mon, Zoro you’re not even eating it!” That does _not_ of course include Luffy and defiantly Zoro shoves the entire remainder of the steak in his mouth not caring how ridiculous he must look.

_How long has it been anyway, weeks? Months?_ He tries to remember as he chews rather awkwardly if there even _was_ a time since joining the Straw Hats. No, he’s pretty sure it’s been an endless gauntlet of fight and fight some more with a bit of ridiculous antics thrown in for good measure. That’s more than fine by him but it seems that it’s no longer good enough for sword number four. He looks down at the heaping side of the el diablo whatever Sanji had proclaimed while setting dishes in front of Nami and Robin prattling like an idiot about the ingredients. It’s hot, spicy, and kicks his tongue’s ass which makes him wonder if that wasn’t designed to deter Luffy from swallowing without chewing.

He watches Luffy spitting fire after some bites and chuckles softly as he finally finishes the meat with a hard swallow. Leave it to that asshole cook to… Zoro watches him again and takes a long hard swallow of ale when Sanji bends over to retrieve what he’s guessing is some other course from the oven judging by the smell. _God how’s that stupid song go again? Seven days at sea can make you hungry for a poke?_ It’s been a helluva lot longer than seven days and come to think of it he _was_ getting laid a lot more regularly when he was on his own. He’d gone from girls to whores to a few bounties and those few times dodging a knife in the pillow had converted the rest of his bed partners from there on to criminals, murderers, or just a few dangerous one night stands that left any normal encounters lacking. He licks the scab on his lip thoughtfully, still tasting blood where Sanji’s foot had split it earlier.

 

That was as hot as it was infuriating.

 

In the end it was Nami- as usual- who’d ended the fight. Maybe she was worried he’d actually kick Sanji’s ass one of these days and _then_ who’d so willingly be her bitch? Zoro glances at her half in his line of sight and can’t help but wonder if she really never has let Sanji perform any other services for her. Now _there’s_ a conquest Sanji can have with his blessing. He diverts his eyes quickly so he doesn’t stare too long and give her any weird ideas about even more ways to milk him for money. She’s busy talking to Robin anyway thank God and Zoro thinks, eating more pasta that for a guy looking at him like he wanted to untie his pants with his teeth Sanji sure is a giant fucking prick tease.

“And for the ladies one extra special round of-“

“Hey, Sanji!” Luffy says nothing else as Sanji carelessly slams down a giant bowl of rustic peasant rolls which while good in their own right are nothing compared to the herbed focaccia that he’s drizzling with olive oil. Zoro throws a few rolls on his plate leaving Usopp and Luffy to fight over the rest and thinks if he fucks that asshole cook _he’d_ better be the one getting the special bread for a change. Hearts in his eyes, pouring more wine, singing the praises of the angels or whatever stupid shit he’s spouting, Sanji makes an ass of himself as usual. Zoro snorts into his beer knowing _that’ll_ be a cold day in hell when he gets anything close to that. On second thought the women can have their fucking bread. 

Luffy wants more meat and Zoro doesn’t know why Sanji didn’t just fry it all at once but he knows better than to actually ask. Another plate of sea king tongue is put down and of all the tongue he thought he’d be getting tonight… He curses to himself as a large gulp of beer goes down the wrong pipe and it takes every bit of willpower to hold his mouth closed, swallow the rest and at least leave his embarrassment at a loud series of coughs minus any drink spitting across the table. He has _no_ idea where that came from only knows that as he sets the glass down and nearly chokes to death on beer and on his dick’s god awful sense of humor and timing that there’s a rubbery hand pounding on his back. Zoro coughs harder hunched over the table as Chopper yells at Luffy that he’s only making it worse. And right at that moment Sanji decides to grace them all with his seated presence walking right past Zoro the long way around the table. He stops just as Zoro starts to catch his wheezing breath and the rest of the table’s stopped looking at him. 

“If you choke that easily,” he whispers in a low throaty voice that’s a world removed from the simpering trill he throws the women, “then maybe I’ll be too much for you after all.” Zoro watches him take his seat, watches the slim lines of his body and that one smoldering eye as he picks the bottle back up. His first thought watching that smug bastard take his seat is that he’s a fucking dead man. The second comes at the same moment when Sanji turns that visible eye to him not swooning and ridiculous but hot, heated, making him almost squirm in the seat as the redness fades from his face. _You’re going to regret saying that, love cook._ Zoro doesn’t look away but matches the stare with one of his own until it’s Sanji whose gaze falls to the plate, shoulders tight, chest faintly twitching with a shuddering breath. 

 

Zoro decides unlike the rest to skip dessert. 

 

Later that night he isn’t sure why exactly he had imagined more exciting scene than this. Zoro had imagined as he watched Sanji spooning rapidly melting raspberry gelato past his lips that there was going to follow some half starved groping, hastily shed clothing, half naked rutting in the shadows of the cabin outside where no one could see or maybe even five minutes of mutual masturbation in the bathroom or the cannon room or hell anything except a snippy remark to make himself scarce while Sanji went about washing the dishes like he always did. Whatever. He didn’t know, didn’t care what the hell was going through Sanji’s mind. He had half a mind of his own to tell him he could spend the evening with Rosy and her five friends except there again came that look.

Quick, blink quick like the slash of Mihawk’s sword Sanji glanced up at him from the table as he was collecting plates, cigarette dangling precariously from between his lips. He looked like he wanted to say something. Shit if Zoro’s past experiences were anything to go by he looked like he wanted to cut the crap and swallow something other than smoke, but it was gone just as soon as he’d seen it and by the time he’d finished working himself into a frenzy of katas an hour after dinner he’d gone to bed he was wondering if he hadn’t dreamed this entire goddamn thing. Except that Zoro doesn’t often dream. If he did he might not find sleep the easy solace that it was. He isn’t dreaming now as he drifts between consciousness and the warm oblivion of sleep hands behind his head on the well worn couch of the men’s cabin. He might have expected sleep not to come easily but it usually did and tonight is no different. 

He’d laid there at first, silently cursing Sanji and debating if it was worth waiting for them all to drift off so he could take care of the burgeoning problem on his own. In the end he’d decided that he’d pay Sanji back tomorrow with a good hard ass kicking and  not give him the satisfaction of knowing that he’d gotten him good. And thus Zoro considered the matter settled in his mind even as his eyes had shut to that last tawdry image of pale blue eyes that seemed to be undressing him where he stood in those fleeting seconds in the kitchen. And it’s much to his annoyance now those same blue eyes that he finds hovering above him when he opens his own at last. There are times when he sleeps deeply. There are times when he sleeps so soundly on the rough seas nothing short of a krakken or God himself can wake him; most times if he’s being perfectly honest with himself. Tonight, nerves and senses on a knife’s edge is not one of those nights. Zoro feels his lip curl in a growl as he looks up, eyes long accustomed to quickly adjusting in darkness. He breathes in smoke blown into his face and realizes just as he realizes that everyone else is still asleep that Sanji is in fact sitting on top of him as if he were an extension of the damn furniture.

There are some- perhaps most- who wouldn’t think Roronoa Zoro to be a particularly imaginative man but while his mind doesn’t wander in sleep it often does when he’s awake. Not in battle- never in battle- but there are plenty of other times that he’s allowed himself to drift in a haze of pictures, sometimes silent, more often not. And if he were to dream up this unlikely scenario Sanji would be sitting in a far more convenient position than he currently is. He’s sitting on his legs sideways like an old chair and Zoro has half a mind to sit up and shove him off on principle. Except then he shifts and looks down and Zoro is about to yell at him to move his bony ass when he realizes with a sudden sense of arousal that Sanji’s ass seated on his thighs is far from bony.

“Hey, pervert is this some weird fantasy of yours?” he hisses softly.

Sanji, for his part continues looking down and when Zoro lets his eyes move down Sanji’s face with only a brief detour to those lips, he sees Sanji in far less clothing than he thinks he ever has before. The pervert sleeps one step shy of a suit for God’s sake. Not tonight. Tonight he’s wearing less clothing than even Zoro. Tonight is nothing but light pants loosely tied and if his body sense is true then nothing under that either. God that… shouldn’t be nearly as hot as his dick is finding it. _Dammit if you’re gonna do something just do it already, would ya? And do it fast ‘cause I really don’t want an audience for all this shit._ But it doesn’t seem like Sanji’s in any particular mood to be quick as he slowly tamps a few ashes into what Zoro thinks is a large seashell on the empty sideways laundry barrel- one of a million makeshift oceanic ashtrays- but he’s not certain.

“Your swords,” Sanji says which Zoro thinks has to be the dumbest fucking thing he’s ever heard in a situation like this and he’s been in a hell of a lot quite a few weirder than this. 

“God help me I’ll never understand what the hell weird shit goes through your head they’re right there,” he inclines his head back to the carefully arranged trio of swords solicitously leaned against the barrel at the other end of the couch wondering what Sanji could possibly be going on about.

“I guess I caught you off guard then.” He sits back smirking, the asshole. “What happened to all that awareness you brag about, Moss Head? Too busy thinking about drawing your sword to remember how to use the other three?”

Zoro growls, the taunt lighting the usual fire, the usual drive to fight, but he tamps it down, taking a deep breath as he shifts, large hands clenching and unclenching at his sides as he debates clocking Sanji a good one or grabbing his hair and wrenching down that miserable head of his to that very “sword” he’s mocking. 

Instead puts his right hand on Sanji’s hip.

“I know how you feel.” He watches pleased as Sanji does a double blink, fingers frozen around the cigarette uncertainly. That really shouldn’t be as goddamn hot as it is but watching Sanji off balance is just as nice as seeing him hot and bothered. Zoro trails that hand hard over the top of his thigh squeezing, hearing the soft hiss of breath. “I know how your legs feel, idiot,” he clarifies feeling the grin start to split his face as he feel’s Sanji’s thigh tense beneath him. He’s stiff. His body is completely taut as if he hasn’t thought this through all the way. Well hell that’s fine by Zoro- he’s not about to let this turn into another long drawn out mind fuck and that means keeping Sanji off balance.

_Off balance huh?_ Zoro takes that idea literally sitting up, that hand moving lightning quick at the same time that his legs buck that idiot off the couch. His forearm lifts up in that same moment to catch Sanji across the throat. It catches- Sanji’s discipline too tight to allow him to raise him arms to block when his legs can’t. It’s that knowledge that makes Zoro temper the force enough just to knock him down. He hears the shell scatter as the barrel is hit from the side and he hears Sanji swear as his head cracks the hard planks past the rug. _Huh, maybe I hit him harder than I thought._

“Shitty fucking animal, what the hell do you think you’re doing?!” Sanji voice halts midway to yell keeping at a harsh whisper as he looks up to where Zoro has already rather neatly rolled on top of him knees pinning his thighs both down and apart. Zoro sees the frown on Sanji’s face as he remains still save for the next draw of smoke. The light illuminates enough of a shadow in his eyes before they flick to the side looking irritated. “I think you broke the shitty ashtray,” Sanji says as a follow up, fingers holding the cigarette just a bit tighter than normal.

“That’s not all I’m gonna break,” Zoro answers moving his fingers down to the loose drawstrings of Sanji’s pants. He can hear everyone breathing and really if Sanji’s dead set on doing it here it seems best to skip the preliminaries before anyone wakes up and starts asking a bunch of weird questions..

He can feel Sanji’s stomach muscles tighten, he can feel soft partially sticky skin against his knuckles, that light dusting of hair trailing down from his navel, can feel the tension and hear another curse as Sanji puts the cigarette out between his fingers and drops it to the side.

“What the fuck kind of thing is that to say to someone you’re about to fuck, you shitty mosshead?!” That exclamation is definitely a lot louder than the last and Zoro freezes looking back to where Usopp seems to stir and where Chopper is definitely sitting up from his hammock rubbing one eye.  _Dammit, are you trying to wake everyone up?! What kind of idiot just screams something that obvious?!_ And it’s that inattention that leaves Sanji free to yank a leg and catch him across the chest neatly reversing their positions.  Zoro grunts falling back noting absently that Sanji is in a much better position this time with strong thighs straddling him. He sees the intensity of that stare boring down on him, forgets for a second the reindeer screaming that they shouldn’t be fighting and God _God_ he feels Sanji’s thighs squeeze tight, feels him grind slowly against him and he brings a hand up about to clamp it over that damn noisy mouth when Sanji slams it down hard by the wrist in an unusual use of his hands locking the other on either side of his head. Well hell he supposes Sanji _does_ distinguish between fighting and fucking after all.

“Who’s breaking who, now?” Sanji half purrs bending down that fringe of hair starting to tickle his face. Really Zoro thought that was a perfectly sexy thing to say and that Mugen guy sure as hell liked it… that Mugen guy who’d gotten away after meeting up with his partner and trashing the bar they’d been in along with half the pier and maybe he didn’t get the bounty but he wasn’t half as angry about it as he should’ve been. Zoro smirks at him feeling Sanji’s fingers to his pulse a lot harder- a lot stronger than he’d have thought the love cook could manage. He flexes his fingers and pushes up with his hips feeling friction and heat and wishing like hell Sanji would get on with it. 

“If you’re gonna sit like that, Mr. Dartboard, why don’t you do something useful like-”

“Usopp wake up, they’re gonna kill each other!”

Like maybe explaining to Chopper that for a doctor he doesn’t seem to know a hell of a lot about the birds and the bees or the birds and the birds and a little medical discretion because… Because Zoro cranes his neck and looks upside down to the hammock where Usopp is looking at them both squinty eyed and dammit it if they wake up Luffy he’s going to murder them both- all three- someone’s going to die, that’s his point here.

“Wha-? Chopper? Is it time to get up?” Zoro doesn’t need to keeping looking to know that Usopp is looking over at them probably putting two and two together any minute. “Sanji?” Usopp’s voice is clearing up and Zoro’s jaw is clenched tight in irritation. The increased pressure to his wrist, the curl of that already curled eyebrow on Sanji’s face betrays an equal annoyance and Zoro wonders what he plans on doing about this. _We couldn’t do this on deck? Okay that woman’s probably there but one woman is a hell of a lot better than this sideshow down here._

“We’re not fighting. We’re busy. Both of you go back to sleep.” And don’t wake Luffy should be a given. Zoro looks up at the ceiling mentally counting down who’s going to turn this into a fiasco first, flexing his fingers absently as his hands throb from the blood stoppage. 

“Hey cook…” Hey, he doesn’t feel like laying like this all day if Sanji isn’t gonna fucking move. Hey maybe it’s worth risking a move to the deck or the bathroom or hey… Hey maybe right now Sanji’s attention is back to more important matters because that grip loosens back from his wrists again, pins and needles in Zoro’s palms.

“If I let you go, are we doing this or can’t you draw your sword in front of a crowd?” he taunts sitting back with a look promising anything. Zoro only half hears Chopper in the background as he demands to know what Sanji’s doing on top of him like that if they’re not fighting.” Zoro works the blood back into his hands watching Sanji’s nimble fingers completing the untying of drawstrings and hook ing the waistband of his pants. Usopp at least seems to figure it out with a half stammered near shriek.

“Y-you two aren’t... You’re not...” Sanji looks at him those fingers stopping their movement as he casts another sour look in their direction.

“We are.” He looks back to Zoro with a tug to the bottom of his white shirt. “Is that part of the package or does it come off?”

“You can’t do it while we’re all in here!”

“Watch me,” Sanji fires back flatly. _Okay seems like we’re just a big ball of classy, aren’t we? Fuck, Zoro, are you that desperate to fuck this asshole’s asshole that you can’t... Oh shit..._ Zoro hiccups or laughs or something at that stupid thought that he swallows before he just starts laughing for no reason and scares the hell out of everyone.

“You two are both men how are you...” He can see Chopper running down a mental anatomy list and that laughter is threatening to come to the forefront again. He almost drags Sanji down to kiss him just to stop it but the thought of stubbly ashtray over his face halts that thought pretty fast. Yeah, no, not happening.

“Well you know they ah...” And now Usopp tries to explain and in spite of himself Zoro can’t help the eyeroll and snorts thinking if Usopp has ever even _seen_ another person naked- hell he’ll even give him male _or_ female- then he’ll eat his shirt right here and now. “They ah...” There’s another stammer and Zoro snorts again tugging his shirt up and off. They don’t want to watch no one’s making them after all and he’s done it in far less ideal conditions than this before. He throws his shirt back up on the couch deciding the _haramaki_ would be easier to tug over his head than down where Sanji is currently sitting when Chopper’s scream makes him nearly bite his tongue. 

“Is that why you needed my enema bag this morning?!” Wow. That... Zoro stops midway to pulling the _haramaki_ over his head to just process that. _That sure you were getting fucked, were you?_ He isn’t sure whether or not to be offended or well... Well really. He snickers as he tosses the cloth on the couch along with his shirt looking at Sanji’s red face as he stammers out what might be words, what might be his smoking catching up with him Zoro has no idea. Either way he laughs. Hard. Like really hard as Sanji yells back that it’s no one’s fucking business why he needed the shitty thing and that just sets Zoro off even more.

“Oh God you...”

“It’s our business now!” That’s a high pitched scream from Usopp.

“Whose business is it when all of us have to hear “Oh Kaya” ten times a week?!”

“That’s different! That’s a pure innocent love and not a-“

“Didn’t sound so innocent to me, virgin boy.”

“That’s! I... Wh-who’s a virgin?! I’ve been with hundreds of women! Thousands! They call me Long John Silver and that’s not because of my-” Zoro winces blocking that out looking instead to Luffy who’s somehow sleeping through this entire ordeal. 

“Well shuttup already, both of you, you’re going to wake Luffy up.”

“M-maybe if he wakes up he’ll tell you to go upstairs so we can sleep!”

“I refuse to put on such a display in front of my darling Robin’s innocent eyes!”

“You know I have a “can’t listen to other people doing it disease” that makes me break out in hives.”

“You don’t seem to have a “can’t jack off where other people can hear you” disease!”

“Maybe,” Zoro grits out getting sick of staring at Sanji’s half naked form doing nothing useful while his hard on dies a painful death, “maybe if you wake Luffy up the idiot will want to join us.”

“I’m not hearing this...” From Chopper again- muffled at least- which makes Zoro feel almost guilty but in for a penny in for a pound and at least _that_ seems to quiet everyone down.

“Guess I don’t have to ask who’s taking it then,” Zoro murmurs at last watching Sanji shift one leg out of the thin material and then the other. His eyes are glued to the line of hair going from navel to hard cock, hands paused at the waist of his own pants just watching. Damn who knew he had a body like that? Hell who knew he was hung like that? Sanji’s cock is half soft hanging down between his legs thick swollen and Sanji snorts, looking up from beneath lashes mouth moving as if he wished there were a cigarette pressed between his lips. Zoro makes a note to remember that desperate look.

“I’m doing you a favor, muscle head,  I’m sure I’ll have an easier time with your baby dick.” 

“Maybe I oughta let you choke on those words first,” Zoro fires back, his cock already starting to get hard again. Yeah, that mouth on his cock, that’s exactly what he needs. Sanji seems to read his mind, moving fast, hands replacing Zoro’s tugging his pants off hastily, leaving one ankle stuck. He half kicks it off carelessly watching the top of Sanji’s head as he kneels between his legs and looks up at last.

 

“Let’s see what you’re packing then, shithead.” 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can see this went from 3 parts to 4 when I realized there was no way the third chapter wasn't going to get ridiculous. And then I had inspiration and here you go. Thank you everyone who's reading! I appreciate your positive response. Once again there's a reference to an encounter with an anime character outside the series. Bonus points to anyone who gets all 3 so far. Here's where it goes from 0-pr0n so brace yourselves for a rather vivid bj and a few more attempts at humor.
> 
> Warnings for language, sex, sort of voyeurism but not willingly, and somewhat incidental exhibitionism as well.
> 
> C&C always welcome!

Sanji has always considered himself a man very much aware of his own nature and failings. He has always acknowledged fault where he has found it and at least to the best of his knowledge none of those faults lie in his ability to talk to women. Needless to say it surprises him when Zoro’s low whisper that follows his challenge prompts him to question whether or not he ought to drop that particular line from his repertoire. 

_“Bet you’ve never seen one that big before.”_

Sanji snorts. Perhaps it’s a matter of sexes. Of course a woman would not have reason to find such a statement offensive on a personal level. Then again the odds are good Zoro had made the remark along the same lines of their usual rivalry just to bait him. In which case…

“Shuttup,” Sanji answers automatically finding himself staring down with every part of his self control holding his eyes back from getting comically big. He almost reaches up to his face for a cigarette that isn’t there.

Big? Is Zoro shitting him? He’s never considered himself a man to have anything to be ashamed of but there’s a point where big morphs into obscene which is just… _Which is just why you’re hard as hell just looking at it, right?_ He ducks his head almost afraid that his thoughts might be read by some magic or that he- like the idiotic sky priest Chopper fought- might be speaking out loud in the madness of it all. “Thank you, Mistress Esdeath,” he whispers to himself chewing on his lower lip. _Thank you for three unforgettable nights. Thank you for showing me there’s so much more to sex than I ever imagined. Thank you for teaching me submission, pain, the exquisite ecstasy of kneeling before you licking your boots and allowing you_ _to strap that monster on and fuck me on my knees but…_

But it is _not_ the buxom, blue haired goddess Sanji sees when he steals a half nervous, half aroused glance upwards from beneath his long fringe. He takes that moment to recollect his thoughts because if there is one thing a gentleman does _not_ do it is envision the body of another over that of his partner. And that partner this time is Zoro. It is Roronoa Zoro stretched out with every shadow of every crevice of defined hard muscle, of broad chest, of everything that is very clearly undeniably male that greets his eyes. No, not simply male, _that_ male, that frustrating arrogant mossy muscle head who he cannot fathom giving such submission to. _That_ male looking down now with an impatient lust that shouldn’t make him automatically reach out and feel thick firm flesh hotly engulfed by his hand. _That is…_ Sanji swallows and looks back down, looks back to Zoro’s cock heavy in his right hand as the fingers on his left curl tightly into the rug on the cabin floor. _Just who exactly is control here?_

Sanji isn’t sure of the answer but somehow he _is_ certain that his answering look mirrors that same lust wrapped and ribboned with months of heated rivalry, fights for dominance, emotions running just as hot and sweaty as he feels right now. And that’s the answer, he decides, letting a wicked smile cross his face. _I am. Of course I am. Because you’re going to be the one who loses control here whatever you seem to think._

“Hey mosshead,” Sanji taunts calling on a long swathe of memories, of sensations, of himself as the recipient as ingredients for a perfectly delectable dish that he’s about to serve up. “You might want to cover your mouth so you don’t wake the Captain.” He looks back down, resettling on his knees, missing but perfectly envisioning the expression of Zoro’s face rising to that challenge.

“Big talk from a-”

“Just what are you two doing over there?!” Sanji hears Usopp’s near shriek cut through whatever Zoro was about to say his head stays bowed halfway to contact _. “Just what does it look like?”_ is the first response that springs to mind as he lowers his face closer, breathing hotly breath blowing back when he speaks.

“I thought you didn’t want to know,” he teases, the playfulness in his voice for Zoro’s benefit alone. He knows he’s close enough now that his lips are crazy close- like steam from simmering _consommé_ so close that he can taste the scent in the air as heat condenses on his face. Above him hears Zoro swear softly under his breath as that whisper teases his sensitive skin.

“I don’t!” That’s too quick, too loud of a protest from Usopp followed by a rustling, fumbling, a snap click and Sanji tries to remember if those goggles can see in the dark. He might have to borrow them. If they can show more than the shadows that his eyes show, if they can illuminate more than just lights and darks… Because Sanji knows just that he knows another encounter is going to be inevitable at this juncture that he wants to see what he’s doing far more vividly.

For now his other senses will have to suffice and that heat blends brilliantly with his sense of smell- Zoro sweaty and salty like braised pork shoulder.

“Don’t think I’ll lose to you, cook,” spoken roughly, thickly, his ear detecting a hint of anticipation, he thinks aware that it might be nothing but lustful projection on his part. There isn’t any damn time for him to do more than act. Sanji’s mouth opens slowly, letting the tip penetrate past his lips, letting gravity, letting the hard girth spread his lips wider and his hands reach out catching Zoro’s wrists right when that shift of weight, that rustle alerts him to hands looking to grab hair. But he maintains that balance amidst curses, amidst hips pushing up urging him haste, letting his teeth scrape a warning pushing foreskin back, hearing Zoro’s hiss balance a sharp’s knife edge of pain. _Don’t fucking rush me._ He lets his hands loosen their grip feeling the pulse beneath skin ebb away faintly as his hands fall back to the tops of Zoro’s strong thighs digging nails in until he can feel the swollen head brush the back of his throat.

 _Breathe in, out slowly, very slowly, relax._ His arms strain holding straining hips and his can feel his own pulse increase as he breathes out, exhale, hot and humid his face damp as he feels that tickle, that automatic reflex that he ignores, flesh far more forgiving than that hard monstrosity ever was. Hard. God, Zoro is so incredibly hard but he feels the soft smooth flesh passing his lips, filling his mouth as he hollows his cheeks and gives a long slow _suckslurp_ back up, purring low in his throat as he hears the curses louder, the fumble of hands and he looks up just as the tip passes back out to see Zoro’s trembling hands outlined in the dark curling what’s probably his bandana, shoving it between teeth and biting it down hard. _That’s one point for me then. Who’s your shitty ball man now?_ Sanji’s laugh is nothing but a soft playful hiccup- triumphant but hot, not intending to piss Zoro off but let moss head know who’s in the lead. 

Like a surgeon, patient biting down on cloth while the doctor works, Sanji moves again, slowly, precisely, hearing another loud groan from behind the _haramaki_ as once more his face hits the base diving deep, slow, torturously so and he hears the _thump_ of Zoro’s fist pounding the rug as his hips still. Zoro’s body is taut, stomach tight, Sanji catches a soft _hn_ from above him as he twists his head just a little to the right, the angle better, another desperate half gulping breath as his hands reach out, steadying on that same patch of carpet, sweaty palms trapping Zoro’s with just enough of a warning before his head plunges down quick, throat scraping raw as he fucks it up and down on Zoro’s cock. That _hn_ grows louder, those hands turn palms up grabbing his almost intimately, almost making him lose his balance until Zoro squeezes hard nearly making him panic at the danger to his hands but that strength stopping carefully controlled as Zoro assumes  his full weight and keeps him held there.

Sanji turns his head, faintly, side to side tongue swiping anything he can manage until he backs off enough to breathe another gulping gasp of air, saliva sticky strung from his mouth to the tip of Zoro’s cock, the shaft wet, in his mind’s eye a glistening masterpiece reaching heavenwards to the joy of the master sculptor. Maybe Nami is right, maybe he really does say a lot of shitty nonsense. He shakes his head softly to himself considering Nami, Robin any other lady a distraction best left to the bright light of day where he can dream accompanied by rainbows and shimmering sunlight. This is dark. This is dilated pupils darkened to their utmost to even allow the outlines that he can currently see. Impulsively, he licks, long laps up, down, circling, catching Zoro’s cock as his tongue bats it around and bathes, mouth catching a rebound with a strong slurp, a series of sucks letting the skin stretch as his teeth lightly, carefully tug another series of moans. His face returns to being buried- Zoro hitching tense and Sanji dares him to lose it now- as the root of that thick monster burrows once more down his throat so quickly it causes that involuntary hitch of his esophagus.

He feel Zoro squeeze his hands tighter at that motion and he forces his throat to constrict in response, hearing a soft squeak from behind the cloth, hearing Zoro breathing heavier and in turn he shifts on his knees pins and needles as the blood flow moves and hunched over he becomes acutely aware of just how fucking hard he is when his cock rubs his stomach. Sanji gasps, another squeeze of his throat and he pulls back breathless pulling his hands back encircling the base with his right giving a good hard squeeze- followed by a groan- that’s followed by him reaching down with his left hand slowly rubbing hard, calloused palm heating his own cock with hot friction until he feels rather than hears the groan from his own throat, the vibration hitting lingering soreness that makes him ten times harder rather than annoyed. Raw, aching, alive, his hips tilt longingly into his sweaty palm slowly rolling around until he thinks he’ll burst.

Sanji’s right hand moves easily on Zoro’s shaft, he can feel skin stretched but still just that bit loose and he can feel when his thumb circles the top a slow pearl of sticky wet seeping out. He looks up, watching Zoro’s face looking at an impatient expression his mind fills in, looking at the heavy rise and fall of his chest and on impulse Sanji bends down and licks a long swipe across that tempting skin. He tastes salt, hears a surprised yelp and he bites down, the hard muscle of Zoro’s pectoral yielding beneath his teeth. He sucks, draws in skin, feels a strong hand clutching at his shoulder but it stops short of trying to move him. Sanji moves on his own, back down, bite suck, drawing all the blood to just below the surface drawing louder moans with each inch closer back to Zoro’s cock. He lets his teeth scrape over hip bone, moving back to center, letting go, letting the strange indignity of Zoro’s cock slapping his face cause his eyes to fall shut and allow another soft moan escape him- a soft barely breathed “yes” not quite caught.

“You like that, mosshead?” he asks thinking that he shouldn’t particularly care whether Zoro likes it or not but seeing the stopped mid nod of a head gives him a smug sense of satisfaction that is starting to outweigh whatever inhibitions he still has. Zoro, panting, removes the cloth with a slightly trembling hand.

“Why don’t I show you if you think you’re man enough to take it,” he whispers back. They both ignore Usopp’s plaintive whine insisting they ought to be finished as long as it’s been followed by a half mumble asking what on earth could possibly be _that_ involved or take that long. Really, Sanji is the only one of them with any need to be up earlier than the rest but that thought flickers out like a candle light.

“You think you’re man enough to give it to me? I think you were about to pass out just now.” He feels more than sees by intuition the feral grin in answer.

“Why don’t you try me, Curly Eyebrows? Last chance to back out if you’re chicken”

“Bring it, mosshead.” _If you think I don’t know what I’m doing, think again._ He stops his hand from once again reaching for a cigarette that isn’t there and nearly freezes when he feels Zoro’s hand unexpectedly on his head.

“Ch’ what the-“

“Then you better get it good and wet, cook ‘cause I don’t want to hear any whining later.” That stops him wanting more than to give Zoro a good kick to the chest but the words more than that steely grip are what capture him. _“Get it good and wet, Sanji-chan…”_ He hears the words echo back that memory of Esdeth for just long enough to merge the two into one burning desire to obey that command. It isn’t Zoro that spawns the automated reaction- that unthinking acquiescence- but the ghost of a beautiful brutal woman who once did the same. He doesn’t trust himself to speak, his hands twisting behind his back of their own accord, that muscle memory snaps to as his head snaps back down, to do exactly as he’s told. He hears the soft “fuck” pass from Zoro’s lips as he feels a second hand, feel them both guiding his head down quickly but still carefully controlled. He opens his mouth a little, just enough so that once more teeth scrape lightly down sensitive flesh as Zoro fucks his mouth hard but steady, a steady thrust back, forth, far more evenly than the tight grip in his hair would indicate.

The memory fades, that last lingering ghost of black rubber over his tongue yielding to the very real organic flesh, flesh that pulses, that quivers, that slicks over with his own saliva and feeds back to his mouth Zoro’s essence with every slippery suck. He can feel it as it spills from his mouth, his heavy breathing, heat, everything making his mouth wetter, Zoro’s cock wearing that wet mantle with invitation. And the invitation comes when those hands loosen and he sees Zoro sit up slowly making some vague gesture with his hands. Sanji sees him panting, can imagine the lick of lips considering and Zoro’s guttural gasp of “on your knees” comes right at the same time as Usopp makes some half strangled garble of protest and Chopper ask- hoofs over his eyes- if they’re done. Sanji nearly answers with a sarcastic observation that he already _is_ on his knees but he lets go of his wrists behind his back, massaging them lightly, watching Zoro crawl behind him.

“What are they doing now?” Chopper again. Sanji grits his teeth wishing he had a cigarette to bite down on looking up to his hammock and the precious tobacco he knows is up there waiting. He can see Usopp’s outline not quite turned away looking suspiciously their way once more and really if he’s going to lay there so awkwardly the least he could do is make himself useful.

“Hey Usopp can you pass me a-”

“I do not want any part of this!”

“Look I just need a damn-”

“I have… I have a jar in my bag that you could use for-” Sanji hears Chopper and with a weird sense of horror at the stammered attempt at being helpful and he does _not_ want him to finish that sentence under any circumstance.

“I just want a shitty cigarette you idiots!” is screamed causing Chopper to fall unceremoniously out of his hammock with another loud thud, Usopp obeying the command with a scramble. Sanji can feel nerves converging on excitement, the two warring as he looks to Luffy and registers the deep breathing that hasn’t abated and nearly faints with relief when he sees the bright white sail through the air towards him while Chopper half sneaks back to his hammock. Until of course his face meets the carpet, Zoro’s hand on the back of his neck like an animal driving his head forward and down. He catches himself on his hands with a curse, still being held, ass in the air. “Sonofa-”

“You’re not gonna smoke that damn thing while I’m fucking you.” Zoro leans forward growling the command in his ear. Sanji takes a deep breath feeling his leg twitch with the urge to take his back to a good sweaty fight but feels he strong grip at the nape of his neck send a shiver that only makes his legs reposition and spread further apart. _Shit. One point to the mosshead._

“Don’t say it so straightforward like that!” Usopp hangs between both hammocks like a sloth, fingers curled tightly to keep from falling.

“It’s not like we’re playing cards over here!” Zoro’s grip tightens on him. Sanji feels almost boneless at the hard tug to his scalp and he feels a tremble in his shoulders as he sucks in a breath. He sees the cigarette rolling with the gentle sway of the ship a few more inches away on the light pile of the rug. He shifts, reaching a hand out to it the hell with that shitty swordsman and his… 

Sanji feels a hand on his hip that almost tickles. It would tickle if it weren’t so hard and he feels a trail down his spine, over the curve of his ass until he moves away. He can’t turn his head, his peripheral vision seeing nothing but darkness and shadows. Until he feels slick wet, feels what he only can guess is two fingers too quick to tease slide in, out, Zoro swearing softly under his breath. It hurts- a little. Not too much but enough to make him want more.

“I’ve done this before, mosshead,” he half whispers knowing it’s still loud enough for Chopper’s ears and still sounds painfully loud in the dark quiet of the cabin. _I’ve done this before and God your dick is more alive than-_ He swallows down that hateful excitement. “Just hurry it up or I’ll-”

“You’ve done this before?!” he isn’t sure who exclaims it, that hand previously stopped from the cigarette coming instead to his lips in a shushing motion. _With women! Whatever you’re thinking it is completely wrong I don’t like men I..._ He watches Usopp clamp his free hand over his mouth eyes darting nervously to Luffy. _The hell with it._

“Just do it already.” Sanji nearly turns his head to bite at the hand still holding him down by the neck when he feels wet, feels the moisture hit the crack of his ass, warm, sliding down, rubbed around the rim of his sensitive hole and his lips part a gasp to tell Zoro he better have more consideration than to spit on him like some unwashed male prostitute when he feels wetness being pushed in, rubbed, followed by the head of Zoro’s cock. _Shit, I take it back do that again._ Sanji’s hands curl to fists, one in from of his face, the other awkwardly wrenched behind his head and his nails scratch pulling at the rug hard as Zoro goes slow, slow, like the slow slow beam too slow, thirty seconds to seeming oblivion. Sanji swears “shit shit shit” as that bulbous cockhead opens him wide, his body pushing back, friction ache, everything reminding him it’s been too long and he shouldn’t be rushing- it’s been too long and he needs Zoro to just go faster and faster until he catches fire like flambé.

“Fuck… Zoro…” the syllables of the name fall easier than any other ting he can think of coming with just the consonant sounds “zzz” and “rrr” that somehow seems a communication only between the two of them. “zzrrzzrr” is “hurry now, God, please” in some ancient indigenous language of fucking he’s sure of it as sure as Zoro lets go of his hair, grabs both hips, dick still slick enough to slide in deep, and practically throws Sanji’s body backwards. It forces the breath out of him, Zoro’s strength dwarfing that of anyone else he’s been with. He thinks his knees leave the ground for a spit second, his hands half scrabble for purchase on the floor as that thrust forces the breath out of him making him scream out one loud elongated “haaaah.” 

It’s loud. Louder than any noise that anyone’s made tonight. He’s aware of that fact in some dim corner of his mind that makes him bring the back of his hand to his mouth and bite down hard on the soft skin, the cry tamped down to a softer throaty series of hitches. He hears Zoro dimly ask if he’s okay in a low voice near his ear, his head bobs wildly yes, yes God, now would Zoro move already and wipe the smirk that Sanji can feel forming when he lifts his head back up off his stupid face.  _Dammit another fucking point to him shit double damn!_ Smug, stupid, shitty, swordsman just lets him wriggle, lets him pant around that hand, clench, let go, and hiss under his breath to fucking _move_ already because he’s so close to tasting that brutal hard fucking that violent lurch promised.

“That’s what the lapahns sound like...” Chopper whispers to Usopp uncovering his eyes as Sanji looks down and away his face red. 

“Sh-shuttup…” He growls at them.

“It was more like a cat,” Usopp argues back.

“No the lapahns mate just like that too.” Chopper points. “But the head isn’t down far enough. I think the male moves more.”

“But he bit his neck.” Usopp held the back of his own neck. “Right here like this. Like a cat.”

“My dick doesn’t have spikes on it,” Zoro grumbles leaving Sanji to wish everyone would just go back to being embarrassed; he ducks his head about to tell them he isn’t a giant rabbit or cat or any other stupid animal. Zoro offers a guess of a “curly brow weasel” that makes him hiss- just like the animal in question- as he resolves to murder every last one of them when this is over. That resolve lasts as long as it takes the loud bang to nearly startle him into another noise, head whipping to the sound, eyes wide as he sees exactly the cause. _Game, set, shit!_

 

The room is awash in light all of a sudden as the emergency door separating the men’s from the women’s cabins opens up, Nami looking at everyone in succession until her eyes finally settle on Zoro and Sanji on the floor in front of her. She grins honey sweet, a look that fools no one as she practically purrs.

“I think Usopp is right, Sanji-kun. It definitely sounded more like a cat.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go ahead and laugh. Yes 5 parts. I have no idea why my muses won’t let this damn thing die when I have so much other shit to get done but there you have it. No one will probably believe me when I say there’s only one more part too -_- That being said here Nami finally makes an appearance and we have some submissive Sanji kicking off... along with more poor attempts at being funny.
> 
> Thanks everyone reading. C&C is always welcome!

“See even Nami agrees with me that it’s a- Nami?!” Usopp lands with a thud as far as Zoro can hear followed by a second exclamation from Chopper. _Whatever happened to being quiet?_ Nami too brings a finger to her lips pointing rather insistently to Luffy. He follows her fingers thinking that if ever there was a time to pray that Luffy isn’t awake… And amazingly enough he’s not.

“Hey, cook, did you slip him something when we weren’t looking?” Zoro looks down wondering how he’d forgotten even for a second that the source of the commotion is still attached to him rather delicately at the-

“Ah… N-Nami-san…” Zoro opens his mouth to say something but the tension, the tight clench, every indication of Sanji’s state of mind radiates through his body and grabs hold of him like a novelty finger trap. It’s not helping- rather it _is_ helping but it’s helping his dick stay rock hard in probably about the worst possible situation. _Just don’t tell her this isn’t what it looks like. I can listen to a lot of ridiculous babbling out of your mouth but-_ “…this… this isn’t what it looks like…” Zoro smacks his forehead hard. _Then why don’t you move, idiot? Shouldn’t you be scurrying to the other end of the room or something?_ Zoro realizes he hasn’t exactly let go himself but if anything Nami is the one interrupting.

“Then what are you doing, Sanji-kun?” Again that honey sweetness while Nami rests her chin in her hand and it’s just too damn weird for him.  Zoro clears his throat and in the end shoves Sanji off his dick and stands up reaching for his pants. That sets off the stupid pervert cook up in his face and he barely deflects a kick with his forearm- that one stung actually. 

“Go on, _Sanji-kun_ tell her what you were doing,” Zoro taunts.

His voice is acid, the sting of being so close, feeling so good only to have a giant bucket of ice water thrown onto it not helping his mood. He could ignore Usopp and Chopper. He could keep quiet so Luffy didn’t wake up but he will be _damned_ if he’s going to… wait… Zoro stops, one leg about to slide into the soft cotton when he catches Sanji stammering excuses with a pillow over his junk. But no that’s not what stops his attention. It’s Nami’s eyes wandering over to him while Sanji babbles on about a moment of indiscretion and something about men on the seas and yeah, Sanji can keep fucking talking all day along while Nami ignores every bit of it.

“What?”  Zoro’s voice is flat. He looks at her suspiciously not about to be cowed into covering up like some girl. He stands up straight crossing his arms. “You getting a good look? Maybe _I_ should charge _you_ for staring for a change.”

“Put your pants on your animal, my darling Nami shouldn’t have to look at that!” Sanji keeps the pillow over himself as he does an odd sideways shuffle towards his discarded pants.

“Unlike you I don’t have anything to be embarrassed about!” And it’s not like he heard any complaints earlier either. Stupid curly weasel…

“You wanna say that again, shitty swordsman?!” Sanji practically growls at him and Zoro can’t help but notice before he fires back the slight flicker of Nami’s eyes to Luffy. Right. Keep it down. He doesn’t miss her settling that look on Sanji though a moment later, her smile turning a lot less innocent.

“You don’t have anything to be embarrassed about Sanji-kun.” She looks thoughtful as Sanji seems about to pass out from the unexpected praise. “But if I’m interrupting something…” She trails off meaningfully looking at them both. _She can’t be serious. No way. Not for a second_

“Nothing at all Nami-swan, let me make you some hot cocoa so you can go back to sleep. You woke her up, mosshead,” he whispers in a low weasel hiss at him. No, no maybe it’s more like an angry tea kettle. Whatever it is Zoro scratches the back of his neck deciding to just go back to sleep and forget this whole ridiculous thing ever happened.

“Right. Nami’s awake,” Usopp says looking almost desperate. “So we’re all going back to bed and forgetting any of this ever happened… And tomorrow I can try and scrub my eyes clean,” he adds under his breath.

Zoro nods. Right. That would make sense. This whole thing is just some moment of insanity and maybe there’s some merit to Sanji’s babbling after all when he says that they’re just two men who’ve been out to sea for too damn many days. As soon as they reach the next port he doesn’t care what he has to do he’s getting laid- he’s fucking someone who is most definitely _not_ some infuriating skirt chasing pervert cook. _With a sweet ass,_ his mind adds to his annoyance. _Ass is exactly what he is and nothing is worth all this trouble. What’s that song the sailors sing, seven days at sea making you need a poke? Damn right. Makes you downright crazy, too._ He slides his pants back on shaking his head but stops when he sees that Nami is still looking at him weirdly. It gives him the chills.

“How am I supposed to go back to sleep after all that?” Nami glares at him. “A woman needs her beauty rest. Your _navigator_ needs to be alert.”

“Hey if you’re trying to con more money out of me you can forget it. Ask Mr. Nothing to be Embarrassed About over there.” He jerks his head in Sanji’s direction trying to remember what side of the pillow that is so he most definitely does _not_ rest his head on it. Does he really even need a pillow? No, pillows are for weaklings, he decides in that moment.

“Do you know what would help me sleep, Zoro?” There’s that tone again, that “I’m gonna loan you money for a sword and ream you on the interest” tone. His shoulders are tense but when he looks at her he sees her eyes drop for just a moment almost nervously. That only makes him more concerned.

He shouldn’t ask her what. He knows better than that after all their time sailing together not to ask. Better to slam the hatch in her face and let her move out of the way than to go any further. Zoro sighs and runs fingers through his short hair. It’s slightly sweat damp and that only irritates him further.

“Alright, what?”

“Anything, Nami-swan, whatever your heart desires, you just name it!” Sanji interrupts him on one knee somewhere in all this nonsense recovering his pants. He looks like a proposing imbecile. “Ice cream, moon cake, strawberry mousse?” That grin splits her face again evilly and Zoro takes an unconscious step back. That swordsman’s second sense is kicking into overdrive and he unconsciously eyes his three swords on the other side of the sofa.

“Mmm no, I was thinking more along the lines of seeing a Zoro Sanji pound cake.” She turns away, innocently twirling a lock of short orange hair but he can see her eyes going to Sanji. Of course if any idiot would agree to whatever stupid thing she suggests it would be _that_ idiot. Rotten woman! He should have known! He should have guessed she’d be into something like that. There’s silence at the statement, the gentle ocean waves outside and the faint creak the only sounds that can be heard. Zoro is almost impressed that Romeo himself has been stunned into speechlessness. Zoro doesn’t dare look at him for fear of giving her any more ideas. He almost holds his breath, no one daring to speak until Luffy sits bolt upright with a sleepy slurred mumble of pound cake. Zoro almost feels his stomach drop into his throat, all eyes turning to the captain who promptly flops back into the hammock with a soft snore.

Zoro lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and glares at her practically throwing himself on the couch sitting down with his arms crossed.

“No way. No way in hell. You want to see a show you go somewhere and pay for it when we dock. I am _not_ gonna give you any ammunition to use against me later.” Nami pouts. He can’t see it but he can hear it in her voice. 

“Do you really think I would do that Zoro-kun?” Zoro doesn’t buy it. _Ask me if I think the sun will come up in the morning._ Sanji has recovered enough to have that stupid starry eyed expression. _God, does that stupid cook have even a single shred of self respect?!_

“Nami… angel… do you really want to see this mosshead doing… doing that?” Zoro snorts. _It’s called “fucking”, dart board brow. I think we’re past walking on eggshells don’t you? And why are you asking her, you’re a man, not much of one but even_ _you_ _can’t be thinking of…_

Zoro trails off that errant thought as he studies Sanji having shifted to both knees in front of her. It’s a submissive position that he finds oddly… stirring- at least his dick does. Zoro sighs. Once again that stupid thing has completely sold him out.

“Only because it’s you, Sanji-chan,” she coos back at him sweetly. Zoro crosses a leg thinking that he hears Usopp shaking his head so vigorously in a “nonono” that it’s almost audible. Maybe he’s finally lost it and he’s just hearing things. Maybe it’s just some bizarre dream that he’s going to wake up from any minute. A dream. Of course. That’s the only explanation for the odd expression that crosses over Sanji’s face when she calls him that particular name. It’s like a trigger. He can’t think of another word for it- like that hypno freak waving the chain at Luffy- Sanji looks like a man under a spell. _Yeah, tell yourself it’s a dream a few more times and maybe you’ll even believe it._ Yeah, Sanji is definitely looking up at Nami again with that look shifting his weight. Zoro sees a shiver passing through him.

“No way, you can’t be serious Nami, you’re just kidding, right? Haha of course you’re kidding, you’re just getting revenge on those two for making all this noise good job you really had me going there too!” Usopp’s voice is turning comically high. It would be funny if Zoro wasn’t smack in the middle of it. “This is where you yell at us to be quiet and go to sleep or you’re going to fine us for every minute you’re awake, right?!” 

“Hey, don’t give her any ideas,” Zoro fires back at him looking away just long enough to see the nervous sweat almost visibly pouring off. He feels a twinge of guilt- a twinge, nothing more as many times as he’s done Usopp a solid the least he could do is-

“Y-yes… yes... Mistress.” Sanji’s forehead touches the floor of the cabin and Zoro blinks stupidly wondering just what the hell Sanji thinks he’s agreeing to. Nami for her part looks way too happy at maso-cook, totally his new name, that fucking sado-maso eyebrow freak! She smiles, she almost bounces, he imagines her kneeling on the couch that’s against the wall looking way too damn happy. 

“Oh, Mistress? I like that, that’s good, Sanji-chan,” she says again sweet as honey- or sweet as one of those giant pitcher plants luring in stupid bugs. “Call me that again.” Her tone shifts in an instant, the hard negotiator, and much as Zoro despairs for Sanji on the same level he would any man caught up so pathetically under an evil woman’s thumb he can’t help but find that expression of servitude that Sanji answers with… arousing. _Well, shit._

“Yes, Mistress, whatever would please you,” He whips his head up and around looking at Zoro with his usual sneer like a magic mask being ripped off from sub to sonofabitch in record time. “Hey mosshead, get back over here, did you think we were finished?” Zoro feels the vein twitch in his forehead and he nearly reaches for one of his swords to put them both out of their misery. _I’m gonna kill him. I’m gonna slam that door in her face and kick his ass from now ‘til sunrise, I swear._ He grinds his teeth both of them standing up at the same time, nose to nose, angry and tense.

“You that eager to be my bitch, _Sanji-chan_?” he taunts nastily.

 “Maybe I’ll ram my prick down your stupid throat this time, eh, shithead?” Sanji’s eyes flicker sideways to Nami once more, hands clasped in that stupid way he has asking her permission. “If that’s what Mistress would prefer of course.” _If that’s what... God, would it kill you to grow a pair for even a minute?!_ Zoro shoots Nami the dirtiest, blackest look he can possibly muster. 

“I’m not doing this. This idiot might be happy to lick your boots for a pat on the head but I’m not here to put on a show for you.”

“That’s right Zoro! You’re a man! You don’t take orders from her you-”

“What if I pardon half the interest you owe me?”

“All of it. And ten percent of the balance.” Nami frowns, that gleam in her still sharp as ever. Zoro has no idea why he’s even letting it get this-

“All of it and you still owe me the full balance.”

“Zoro!”

“Five percent.”

“Three”

“Fine!”

“No!” He hears the plaintive cry from Usopp and doesn’t think the long nose whiner appreciates just how much hell it is to owe Nami that much money.

“If you’re going to stay and watch, Usopp there’s a small admission fee,” Nami all but purrs. Zoro feels a cold shiver run down his spine on Usopp’s behalf. Evil, evil woman.

“Fee? What about the fee for my virgin eyes having to see this?!”

“I thought you’ve been with hundreds of women,” Sanji murmurs, eyes following the path of the cigarette on the floor.

“Women!” he shrieks.

“You can watch me instead,” Nami says leaning further into the window, one strap of a white camisole falling off her shoulder. “But I’ll still have to charge you.” Zoro rolls his eyes at Usopp asking how much. Sanji growls that he better _not_ look and shuts up as soon as Nami tells him to butt out. Zoro is starting to think he could use that damn cigarette himself while Nami and Usopp go back and forth in round two of bizarre negotiations from hell. He should be able to get another percentage or two taken of for this really he should. 

“Fifty thousand beris and that’s all I have you know it!” Fifty thousand? Just what the hell is she going to- Oh. Oh... wow. Zoro looks away quickly as Nami strips off the cami top entirely letting her massive tits half rest on the open doorframe. Zoro averts his eyes before she decides he’s getting too much of a free look too.

“N-M-...ah...” Sanji stares blatantly, frozen so stiffly that Zoro wonders if a good shove would send him tipping over like a wooden plank. He doesn’t seem to be able to form any actual words which is just fine by Zoro. 

“So what are we... Chopper?” Zoro finds his attempt to look anywhere but Nami’s tits forcing his eyes to settle on the doctor sitting up studiously pencil in hand. Does he want to know? Does he dare ask? Zoro considers this apparently too long as Chopper explains in his clinical doctor voice that he’s going to use this opportunity to study human mating. Zoro opens his mouth and closes it again, a million replies to that going through his head. 

“You’re not charging him?!” Usopp accuses with a finger outstretched pointing at Nami and her massive jugs of evil. Zoro can almost hear her dismissive shrug.

“ _He’s_ not enjoying it. _You_ are. Right, Usopp?” Zoro hears a faint squeak and considers what she could have possibly done to get _that_ response but he decides he’s better off not knowing.

“Hey cook. Did you die over there?”

_Died and gone to pervert heaven is more like it._ Sanji is still staring, his hands making weird phantom _squeezesqueeze_ motions that bring Zoro’s eye twitch back full force.

“That’s it I’m not-”

“You two should kiss,” Nami decides just as Zoro decides she can double the damn interest for all he cares.

“We should… what?” He did not hear that right. Is she crazy? She leans in a little further- she has to be practically standing up on the couch as high as that door is- and Zoro realizes that Sanji sure as hell isn’t going to be any use as he nods stupidly still staring at what Zoro assumes is her chest. 

“I bet you two just threw off all your clothes without even a little foreplay did you?” She sighs. “That’s so boring, Zoro-kun, no sense of excitement, no sense of romance.” She tsks the admonishment much to his annoyance.

“I’m not kissing that stubbly ashtray,” he declares just daring her to contradict him.

“She wasn’t asking, now was she mosshead? Now shut up and pucker up your damn shitty mouth.” Zoro half expects to have to dodge some amorous onslaught and he feels an odd twinge of disappointment when it doesn’t materialize. Instead he sees Sanji take a hesitant step, eyes darting between him and Nami as he moves one millimeter at a time seeming unable to decide which way to turn his head, eyes still open, half crossed the closer their faces get. Zoro takes a step back with a grimace.

“How the hell do you ever get laid when women see _that_ coming at them?”

“The same way you and that ugly face of yours do,” Sanji growls back. 

“Sanji-chan,” Nami interrupts, “I know you can do it better than that. You can do it for me, can’t you? I’m so excited thinking about it I just…” her voice trails off breathless and Zoro rolls his eyes trying to process why on Earth Sanji finds that damn woman so attractive. That’s his first and last mistake however, the loss of attention to the wooden planks of the ceiling completely distracting him from Sanji’s hurried whisper of “yes, mistress,” which is soon followed by “pucker up, mosshead.” He swears that he catches a glimpse of a woman’s hand, eye in the center watching from above and that _blinkblink_ rubbing of his eyes only to reveal nothing there completely blindsides him to Sanji’s assault. 

Sanji kisses him hard, inelegantly grabbing the back of his head mashing their mouths together the taste of tobacco hitting Zoro but not nearly as hard as he’d have expected. He’s tense, his neck a taut line of hard corded muscle the moment he feels hands on him. It takes a moment to tamp down that instinct, not to bodily throw the pervert off of him. _You made an agreement. You have your honor to think about. Just let him-_ Let him? No, Zoro isn’t about to _let_ him do anything. Mouth open his tongue shoves Sanji’s back, fingers grabbing two fists of Sanji’s hair feeling the grip slacken as he twists hard, hearing, _feeling_ the growl rumble from where their mouths meet. _That’s right, love cook, I’m the one in charge here, not you._

Zoro feels Sanji’s tongue dance around his, licking back messily and he realizes that he tastes himself, tastes his own skin sweaty, salty fluids as he breathes out messily, hard, feeling Sanji’s fingers digging into the back of his neck. He feels teeth nipping at his lip, every gasp a curse of “shitty”, “fucking”, something or other that he can’t make out as he bites back, catching the tip of SAnji’s tongue with another low angry hiss. He likes that sound he realizes. He likes the swearing sweating barely simmering angry lust that  turns teeth to bite at his mouth harder licking at the swollen skin. He feels blood thrumming there too starting to resonate a singing slice here, there, every signal a twin mirror to his groin. The calloused pads of Sanji’s fingers knead the skin of his neck hard, moving to his shoulders and a step in forces Zoro a step back toward the couch. He can feel Sanji moving closer, can feel the heat seep through his skin like sunburn, warming his body, his blood like rocks blazing heat in a hot spring. He turns his foot, leaning in, not about to let himself be forced back onto the couch and he tugs hard, hearing another hiss low as Sanji’s head is forced back. _So how far can I push you, cook?_

The challenge is made as he leans in harder, Sanji standing his ground body bent back further, Zoro’s mouth moving with a gasp of breath to suck at that stupid stubbly jaw until he hears another swear, another growl. Zoro smiles at that not allowing another parry, sucking the skin hard feeling blood welling beneath the surface until he thinks that stupid curly eyebrow is finally about to fall backwards. Sanji is flexible- hell he knew that- but he’s also a sneaky devil. Zoro’s eyes go wide when Sanji lets go all of a sudden, dropping his body down pulling Zoro right along with him when his back hits the floor. He almost asks what the hell that idiot is thinking when lightning quick legs, knees on his hips turn them both, Sanji rolling on top smirking down triumphantly. _Is that how we’re playing it then?_ He grins back up at him up nastily as Sanji taunts him.

“Second time I’ve gotten you on your back, mosshead. Guess you’re just a shitty grunt without your sword, aren’t you?”

Zoro takes a deep breath feeling the weight that’s becoming too familiar, too pleasant settle on him, and that breath turns just a little ragged as he can feel his cock swell bigger, feel the blood rushing, pooling down until he has to bite the inside of his cheek. He feels Sanji squirm, see that slight hesitation as one visible eye glances down with a quick excited flicker before he looks to Nami like a slavish dog seeking approval. _God, just when you’re almost halfway tolerable you remind me why you’re such a damn idiot._ Zoro’s hands move to the waistband of Sanji’s pants tugging with frustration. He has half a mind to just rip them off at this point.

“Hey, what the hell do you think you’re doing you muscle headed-”

“If we’re gonna do this, take these damn things off, already or are you waiting to be told to do that too like a little bitch?” 

That visible eye narrows down at him, he sees Sanji’s mouth pursed for some jackass retort when Zoro hears Nami’s voice cut through the tension. He looks at the scattered ashtray on the floor when she tells “Sanji-chan” to behave and debates throwing it at her head. But the effect is instantaneous, the blonde head ducking, nodding, Sanji bowing down, his breath hitting Zoro’s stomach rather than the floor from the position they’re in. Seeing that expression, that smoldering angry look turned towards him as Sanji slides his own pants off and attacks the draw string of Zoro’s with his teeth, he can’t deny that the effect is just as immediate for him as well. He breathes out a soft “God” and makes a curious look upwards. Sanji’s wearing a triumphant smirk at that noise that he’s only seen one other time before when he was fed what he swears was cold crushed glass instead of ice the last time he ate _kakigori_.

_Just what the hell is going through that stupid spiral head of yours?_ Zoro watches as Sanji sits back and gives Nami another starry eyed simper.

“Just do whatever, Zoro-kun tells you, Sanji-chan,” he hears Nami say barely above a whisper. He resists the urge to turn his head to look and see just what on earth she’s doing up there. A squeak from Usopp tells him whatever it is, it’s gonna cost him. Zoro sits up and shakes his head. “Can you be a good boy, and listen to Zoro, Sanji-chan?” That sticky seductive sweetness like a damn venus flytrap. It almost makes him shudder but not half so much as that turn of Sanji’s head, that expression turning inward for a moment, that slow breath like he’s ready to dive deep to the seafloor in search of pearls.

That eye darts back and forth- he almost looks like he wants to say something, like he might actually want to grow a pair and refuse when he looks at Zoro. But there’s a silent pause and that eye gets big and it occurs to Zoro that silent pause might not have been so silent after all. She must’ve said something, must’ve mouthed something that the dim roar of blood in his ears made him miss. Whatever it was, the pervy cook sure as hell didn’t miss a word of it as he moves what was an admittedly pleasant warmth from Zoro’s thighs. Sanji is on his knees, once more supplicant, and touches his head to the floor in front of him, head bobbing up and down like some stupid curly bird.

“Of course, Mistress, yes, Mistress, thank you, Mistress.” Nod, bow, nod, Sanji sits back and looks like he might just jizz all over himself right there. Well that was… unexpected. _Better him than me whatever the hell she just did._

Sanji looks at him wetting his lips almost nervously as he lifts his head, his fingers trembling to his mouth searching for a cigarette. Well damn if Sanji wants to looks at him like that again he might just let him.

“Whatever you want… to do…” the words aren’t coming easily and that uncertain finger of his lips is really starting to weirdly turn him on. He remembers that hot mouth, that wet tongue sliding up and down his cock and whatever is in his expression when their eyes meet Zoro sees Sanji drop his eyes, biting his nail almost as if he too remembers and doesn’t want to think about it. Touching his face again Sanji looks him straight in the eye, his other hand kneading at the back of his neck. “You can... you can...” He hesitates, no doubt mentally saying mosshead, as many times as he can squeeze in that pause, no doubt mentally damning every bit of him to some unimaginative shitty hell. Zoro would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t like that. 

“I can what, Sanji-chan?” He shifts, on his knees as well, seeing the duck of blonde hair that may be submissive that may be subversive but in the end is a hundred percent turn on. Zoro pokes his index finger at the side of Sanji’s mouth feeling a soft shiver of breath over his skin. Sanji looks at Nami for just a second, whatever he sees making him turn back to Zoro, looking him full in the face, his own flushed and pink. His expression is a challenge as he turns his lips into that finger with a small, soft lick. There’s triumph in that look with Zoro can’t help but stiffen at the unexpected sultry tease as Sanji nips the tip like some soul stealing incubus. 

 

“Use me however you want.” 

 

Challenge accepted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note regarding the ground glass comment. I remember reading in one SBS that apparently Sanji has done this at least once (though to no ill effect being that's it's comic relief) so I didn't feel guilty adding it :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I finally made it to the end of what was supposed to be 2 parts at best haha. But anyhoo here wraps of this ridiculous bit of smut. Hopefully no one's too disappointed with the ending but well you can't please 'em all. An important note. I wrote this as if everyone was speaking Japanese for the most part and just treated it as translated Japanese (not counting suffixes). I mention that because in this chapter I did write the actual Japanese words out just so the conversation makes sense. I think everyone knows them who've seen the subs but just in case. "Santoryu" is the "three sword style" and "noro" is "slow" (though it's technically more of a sound effect than any type of adjective). That being said thank you all for reading and commenting!

_If you’re a good boy, Sanji-chan… if you forget I’m here and make it good then maybe later I’ll let you…_ Sanji lets that thought trail off before the blood rushes all over his body and makes him pass out. _If I… then you’ll… dear God…_ She whispered that to him and he would have doubted himself but that look, that smile, that perfect everything that made him somehow know that she wasn’t lying. It’s almost enough to make his entire head explode like hard boiled eggs left unattended but he forces himself in the time that he turns back to Zoro to breathe, to compartmentalize, and that challenge to please, both him and her stirs that fire like _fra diavolo_ searing through his brain, the pressure in his head intensifying until the threat of passing out comes back again with a vengeance.

“…however you want,” Sanji repeats with a soft swallow almost unable to believe he even said the words himself. 

He doesn’t look away again as he watches some shift on Zoro’s shitty face that’s rapidly losing whatever annoyance the situation has caused. Sanji gives another soft bite a million insipid come ons he’s seen and read flickering through his mind like a recipe index. It flips, none seeming quite right for the situation, too fake, too false and while he wants to please Nami in the worst way possible- and shit how’s he supposed to pretend she isn’t standing there with those beautiful massive breasts on display?- he remembers that he started this for a reason and that reason is kneeling in front of him almost leaning back in face to face. _Should I kiss him again? Nami likes that. She really likes that._ Sanji considers that as he unconsciously sucks the lip of that finger daring farther, another flick of the tongue slipping around a slow circular motion that makes him shift on his knees and nearly go back for round two.

Well that’s an unexpected thought. But with the way the stupid mosshead is looking at him it seems they’re thinking almost the same thing. Sanji turns his head, pulling back.

“If you think you can handle it,” he adds under his breath nearly too low for anyone else to hear. _Who are you kidding? If_ _he_ _can handle it? This is going to kill you, Sanji. Right there. Nami is right there and you can’t so much as turn your head or… Or why do you keep looking at me like that?_ He catches it half obscured by his fringe but it’s there with Zoro’s eyes locked onto him intensely with the primitive possession only a man could direct so fiercely. It makes his breath catch, makes him falter, it makes him acutely aware of just how hard he is, his cock aching, swollen, about to burst needing to come. 

Whether that idiot decides to throw him down on his back or if he needs to take the initiative again he’s close to not caring. 

“Come here,” Zoro growls at him the most demanding, the most guttural sound he’s heard all night and Sanji’s first instinct is to meet that head on, lock horns until one of them gives. The grin that Sanji shoots is wicked and he’s not sure if that muscle head has the sense to brace himself but Sanji decides that it’s really none of his concern. Only a scant foot separates their bodies, he realizes almost dumbly but that suits him just fine as he throws his full weight at unseating Zoro’s hip, surprised when in one neat motion his momentum rolls him on his back, Zoro neatly using that weight against him to pin him down by the shoulders, their legs twining together.

Zoro looks down, his dark hooded gaze making Sanji pant as he feels the shift of shaft hard, thick, still sweat sticky rubbing against his own.

“That’s a good, bitch,” Zoro whispers bringing his mouth to the shell of Sanji’s ear where no one else hears it. Sanji feels his body tense, his shoulders try and hitch up before he forces himself to be still, the only movement he makes is a needy unconscious thrust of hips pushing against Zoro.  
“What did you just… Shit…” Zoro’s hand on his left thigh roughly tugs, knee braced against his waist and Sanji feels that heavy grind against him, feels the hard muscles against his skin, the faint scars making a brutal unapologetic landscape. He wraps a leg around, his heel digging into the small of Zoro’s back hard receiving nothing but a grunt in answer, another thrust, another rub of friction with Zoro’s teeth punctuating to his neck roughly.

“You heard me.” Sanji blinks his eyes open realizing only now that they’d been shut, his mind an unusual haze of clarity focused singly on the man on top of him. He has a fleeting thought to turn, to look over a broad shoulder and see what he can match to the soft gasps from Nami’s direction with a visual but he lets it go. He’s in control- that is he knows what he needs to do and no other distraction filters through- he’s the master chef slicing, stirring, dividing his attention amongst every detail of the whole completed dish. That dish is ultimately Nami but first to braise, to simmer, to sear ‘til the smoke rises and that cut of meat sizzles on top of him, crackles another growl of “bitch” in his ear and it brings him full circle back to just why he’s on his back in the first place. _“So, cook, are you we gonna fight or fuck?”_  

Another rock of hips, another gasp that he realizes is from his own lips and it makes him relive that dream, that painful waking hard on from phantom lips, a phantom mouth that right now is too shitty real to be anything but reality. _Don’t…_

“…say that again…” The words pass in a soft breath, Zoro rocking his hips, rocking into _him_. That’s not what he meant. Sanji moves his hands from the ground, from the useless place at his sides where they clench and unclench with every slide against him. His right leg is tense, twisting as he goes to grab that stupid short mossy head and wrench it back from that juncture of his neck and shoulder bitten roughly into sensitivity.

Sanji turns his hips feeling another slide of that shaft friction building, Zoro’s cock pushing against his with a rubrub. His knee locks into that hip tighter, the foreskin on his own cock drawn back and forth, rubbing ‘til he feels that faint wetness dribble from the tip slippery sliding faster until it’s almost too much sensation. He pushes, Zoro’s head coming into focus annoyed, flushed, that stupid shitty mouth breathing hard as he looks down. Sanji licks his lips, tilts his hips again with a soft swear. He doesn’t know what about his expression, what about his face that idiot looks at but he finds his wrists gripped hard, shoved back to the rug, the hard wood of the deck thumping even through that small bit of cushion as Zoro holds him down and crushes their mouths together again. 

Sanji hadn’t thought to take a breath first. He forgot to breathe altogether which is crazy since he’s been breathing heavily and panting hard like that sweltering jungle Little Garden heat. But right now he lacks for breath and when Zoro once more roughly covers his mouth nearly missing teeth hitting. He almost immediately sees spots, hands curling to fists, a high pitched gasping squeak escaping his throat. He turns his hips, left right only finding that further rush of blood, that hot heavy hardness flaring brighter and hotter and it only makes the spots behind his eyes pulse harder into bright blue gas flames, the more lightheaded he feels. Sanji’s shoulders strain his back arches as much as the position will allow and yet the more he fights the more Zoro grinds against him, the closer he feels like any second they’ll do some backwards body swap and meld into one writhing mass. But Sanji doesn’t turn his head as Zoro steals his breath, as tongue dances, pirouettes, licking the rook of his mouth, circling his tongue swirling like thick butter on a sizzling pan.

And Zoro sizzles, crackles a static charge between them nipping Sanji’s tongue, squeezing his wrists harder than he could ever see him do to a woman and whatever he promised Nami, the shithead didn’t tell him not to fight and if it’s not a command then he’s not breaking it to bite Zoro’s tongue and make him draw back with a curse while he takes a greedy desperate swallow of air. Sanji smirks at the growl that Zoro levels at him.

“What the hell was that for?” comes from between grit teeth and Sanji’s arm twitches out of instinct of drawing from a cigarette. He chews him lip for just a second thoughtfully still wearing that grin.

“You didn’t tell me not to,” Sanji practically sings as Zoro snarls in his face but instead of being met with a violent riposte, Zoro releases his wrist, leaving his right hand free and Sanji finds fingers immediately flying to his lips easing that unconscious oral fixation as he nibbles the side of his index finger. 

“Yeah, chew on that a while then rotten cook. I’m getting sick of your stupid bitchy attitude.”

“Then why don’t you do something about it, mosshead?” he snaps beck removing the digit just long enough to level a damn good glare. His eyes open wide, Sanji blinks away fine strands falling into the one as Zoro takes hold of his knee and practically shoves it to his chest. Sanji’s long leg bends easily the motion leaving him wide, exposed, and Zoro lets go of his other wrist to grab both knees now pushing them even further apart. Sanji can feel fission fizzling up and down his spine like tonic water as he dares just a brief flashing glance over Zoro’s shoulder to see Nami’s eyes watching them both, vacillating between the shitty swordsman’s ass and his own- _Oh Nami Goddess for you to see me like this…_ He tips his head back throwing his forearm over his face.

Sanji’s face feels hot. He can feel the blaze of his forehead seeming to burn his skin and his chest tightens, a hitch in his breath Zoro’s large index finger circling his hole teasing him.

“Shit,” he swears softly under his breath, the lack of sight making it feel even more intense, making him feel weirdly vulnerable in a way he’s not entirely sure that he hates. Sanji can feel the tension in his body sensing Nami’s eyes still on him unable to imagine what she must even think with him laid out like a delicate woman while Zoro’s stupid meaty hands paw at him. He feels a shift, hearing a soft spit, likely into Zoro’s hand if he’s imagining right and he sees so easily the most brilliant vivid image of Zoro slicking his large cock, taking extra time to circle the head, rubbing, making sure it’s good and wet, shining bright with a mix of his own spit and precome and Sanji clamps down a shiver, but even so can’t help the slight extra tilt of his hips in invitation.

_C’mon, musclehead, you don’t use your fucking brain any other time what’s stopping you now? Just fuck me already if you think I can’t take it then-_

“That’s all your using for lube?!” comes a loud protest from Nami and well it’s perfectly fine by him really it’s not like he’s never-

“You got a problem with that?!” Zoro yells back stopping, Sanji gritting his teeth in frustration swearing softly under his breath. _Not now not now dammit dammit._

“Here!” Sanji hears something catch and in spite of himself he moves his arm seeing Zoro holding a small pink bottle of something that he can’t quite make out. Zoro doesn’t seem to have any problem as Nami chides him on being boorish, inconsiderate, and quite possibly stupid- an assessment that Sanji doesn’t disagree with in the slightest.

“I’m not putting…” he sees Zoro squinting to read the label in the darkness and he can see that scowling face screw further into a black cloud of “oh hell no”. Sanji has half a mind to tell that shitty swordsman that if Nami says jump he damn well better ask how high but catches himself before he can do anything that would displease her. _Right. Don’t fight the stupid mosshead where she can see._ He swallows hard, an indefinable woman’s voice blurring of so many different beauties he’s desired over the years congregating to a damning mental chiding of _“be a good girl, Sanji-chan”_ and he just breathes deeply, reminding himself of the beautiful reward to come for good behavior, for biting his lip, throwing away any shred of self respect he has and just… begging the asshole the way he knows will please Nami the most.

“Please… please… Zoro… sir…” God that hurts. That hurts so much but there’s a glow to Nami’s face that the light catches beautifully, a brightness of her eyes and those… shit those beautiful succulent breasts shift so beautifully when she shifts, bounce slightly and oh god _God_ he’ll say whatever she wants him to say however many times. “I need you… fuck me… just use it and fuck me…” 

Sanji swallows, his legs tense from where they’re bent back and it takes a damn monumental effort not to haul off and kick Zoro’s head off when he turns back to him with the stupidest smuggest shit eating grin Sanji’s ever seen on his face. He looks from the bottle to Sanji waving it with a taunt.

“Is this what you want, _Sanji-chan_?”and once again the way he says it makes the entire name seem sordid and shitty and damn him for being such a lowbrow asshole. The bottle waves back and forth in Zoro’s hand as he unstoppers it roughly wafting some strawberry scent strongly filling the air. Sanji does _not_ want to smell like strawberry fields forever in his asshole but dear God in heaven of all that is holy delicious and succulent the _reward_ … He swallows hard again in a fit of nerves finds his fingers in his mouth once again nibbling, gnawing, shooting a futile look for his cigarettes that have already seemed to roll to the farthest ends of the earth. 

Sanji looks at Zoro as he speaks, finding for that minute that the expression has shifted just enough to be noticeable from complete “beat my face in” dickhead to something a lot more desirable. So he’s probably had a rush of blood to the head or something, he determines because he’s really not starting to get into this. Yeah well, he’s been bent in half like this for too long and if that’s what it takes for Zoro to _move_ then-

“You know I need it.” _Mosshead._ “Your dick is too big without it.” _Mosshead._ “I don’t think I can take it all if you don’t…” _Just get on with it or so help me…_ His voice isn’t half as clear as he’d like, dropping to a near whisper more out of embarrassment than anything else but whatever Zoro thinks he hears in that it makes his face get all weird again and he ducks his head with a heavy breath and a soft mutter of shit while he pours what’s probably way too much of the bottle out into his hand. Sanji definitely smells the strawberries then, andrhubarb or something else and he can almost feel his stomach growl, middle of the night hunger and he thinks when this is over he’s definitely going to have to whip up something fast, decadent and-

“Tsss…” Sanji can’t quite see between them but there’s that subtle motion in those idle seconds of his mind that escaped him as the head of Zoro’s cock presses to his hole- super slick hole- whatever the hell that stuff is making it practically suck in when he starts to push.

“Do you need me to take it nice and slow, _Sanji-chan?_ ” Zoro teases him with a voice that’s just a touch too unsteady, breathing in his ear and it feels far too close, to intimate, and Sanji can feel his face heating as he tries to remember to breathe, feeling Zoro moving slow- too damn slow really.

“If you need to go slow so you don’t shoot your load right away,” _shitead._ Sanji whispers the retort with a ventriloquist’s skill barely moving his lips more than a small smirk at Zoro’s answering growl. He can’t help the errant thought thinking how much Zoro would deserve it if Sanji were to head butt him in his stupid face right about now but instead he just turns his head and finds a small desperate whine keeping from his throat when Zoro calls his bluff and lets that slippery lubrication ease him the rest of the way in.

Hard, deep, Sanji can hear in his head the fast mantra of _shitfuckshitfuckfuck_ or some other variant beating wildly and he sees Zoro open his mouth to say something so stupid and offensive that it’ll probably ruin how damn shitty good everything feels right about now. Nami or no- and God he hears her just enough in the background, just a soft excited squeal, sees her hand go- Oh God if he looks now he’s not going to be able to do anything else! Sanji grits his teeth his hearing picking up every sound he wishes he’d never heard in his life like Chopper excitedly exclaiming that human males can’t couple without fruity smelling oil and he has no idea whether or not he should just let that stand. He has no idea how he’s had all the time to consider this in the brief moment it takes his hand to close over Zoro’s fat indignant mouth but it rushes by like some crazy ticker tape in his head.

It’s only Zoro’s glare that brings him back to present, his hand sliding away when Zoro nips him like a nasty green mandolin slicer. He pulls at Zoro’s cheek, seeing a toothy grin as Zoro’s follow up is a snap of his hips sharp, hard, that makes Sanji’s head smack back against the rug covered planks of the floor with another hiss, diluted with another quick fast thrust and Sanji twist a leg, kicking Zoro in the small of his back with his heel, satisfied when he hears an answering grunt, even more satisfied when Zoro rocks into him again in answer. 

Zoro looks like he could use another pair of arms, small stupid muscle brain trying to process whether he should hold Sanji’s wrists back down to the floor or just grab hold of his hips and- _Fuck…_ Sanji feels him move again, shift a little on his knees and he pictures again that dream, that closeness, that hard body covering his and he’ll deny it ‘til the day he dies that desire to be covered, taken maidenly, like a little virgin girl as one lovely Mistress with a crop and an equally gorgeous pink haired sister once teased him. _You won’t think I’m less of man if I… surely you won’t hold it against me or not…_ No, a deal is a deal and Nami is nothing if not honorable with her agreements and that last little mental pep talk is the last little bit he needs to crack that shell open and let that yoke spill out, slough away, and Sanji takes a deep breath, hand sliding to the back of Zoro’s neck, pulling his face down, his whole body really, his own head turned to some point of the couch leg not particularly wanting to see that stupid face right now.

“Please…” is all he mumbles, leaving Zoro to do whatever the hell he will with that hearing a curse breathed against the sweaty skin of his neck, Zoro’s hand pawing at his thigh, at his flank and he tilts his hips, panting, feeling Zoro start to move again fucking deep, slow, not realizing it was possible to drive so fucking _hard_ at that pace but if anyone can, it’s Zoro. Sanji feels the fingers digging, bruising, and he stops being nice, stops tempering his own fingers and curls with the kitchen calloused pads, instead turning nails, short blunt, but still sharp enough to scrape hoping he can add another few scars- scars on a warrior’s back to remind him that Sanji might be his bitch tonight but the _real_ bitch is- _Oh fuck... Oh Godfuckfuck..._ Sanji feels Zoro seem to get bigger, harder, feel like he’s everywhere at once, as he rams him good a deep in response to that scratch making Sanji claw harder determined to draw blood just as Zoro draws a low throaty hum out of him. Sanji’s cock between them feels the friction of hard muscles, tanned skin sliding, rubbing, teasing precome out over the hyper sensitive head only making that slippery slope faster when Zoro gives his hips another tilt and makes Sanji practically howl as his body yields just that fraction further feeling every last hot bit of that huge monster cock spearing him open even wider. And he does the only thing he can think to take his attention divert that focus to anything but shaming himself in screaming that stupid name or even worse waking Luffy up.

Sanji bites Zoro’s shoulder or at least close to it feeling his body trying to bend itself in half or arch back against the floor like the slicing blades of a pastry cutter. He can’t quite seem to figure out which way to move thinking he might have half cursed Zoro’s name but equally positive that there’s been an even faster chant of _shitfuckshit_ spilled out twice for every motion of Zoro’s hips. Sanji hears another low growl to his ear, a quickening pace of breath and that pace of fucking, of raw hard cock drilling deep get more urgent and insistent and he can feel the hard muscles tense beneath his hands as he squeezes his thighs together hard, tight as he can manage every bit of him locked in that heavy throe of Zoro’s climax building just as steadily as his own with that angle of his cock brushing, teasing sharp tines of white hot heat and if there was room between them he’d slide his palm in that space and jack himself off he’s so close to- 

“San…San…” _Don’t say my name.. so help me if you’re gonna come you stupid mosshead don’t-_ “ _Santoryu_!” Sanji can feel Zoro on top of him go still, feel him come, feel him empty his seed right at that moment as he holds his hips tighter and his mind is a garden medley of heat; angry and wild. 

_Did he really just- Three sword style!? What kind of shitty thing is that to say?! And what kind of asshole just shoots off without even caring about-_

“Ha-” Sanji’s hand claps to his mouth, biting the meaty side so he doesn’t make any noise at the sudden feel of Zoro’s hand around his shaft, the heavy weight gone off him as Zoro sits back on his knees. He sucks in a breath through his nose a few soft noises escaping his throat as he looks over toward Luffy half panicked. He sees Chopper craning his head, paper in hand and a yell of “what are you doing now!?” and he shuts his eyes tightly as the reminder that there are other unwanted guests flood back to him. He keeps his mouth covered, Usopp’s perverted leer at Nami’s exposed body making him nearly kick Zoro like a stupid green shotput at that long nose and it’s only the fast rough tug, that heady friction that makes his eyes roll back and makes him forget all of that for a few more precious seconds as his hips buck, hands falter as he struggles to get enough oxygen. He feels in one moment his ass on Zoro’s thighs, feels come pushing out sloppy messy and the thought of that picture is just so debauched, so fucking dirty that it makes his entire body light a bright flambé torch he hears an annoyed grumble of “hurry the hell up already.”

Sanji has half a mind to tell that shithead if he wanted him to come he could’ve waited instead of just plowing ahead with his own damn pleasure but he twists his hand, turning his head about to tell him to just let him finish himself if all he can manage is one automatic motion when he catches sight of Nami, hands beneath the porthole, those large swaying breasts covered in a fine sheen of sweat light hitting them just so. _Oh…_ So perfect, so pale milky white with those large nipples peaked, excited watching _him_ and Sanji drops his hands down to the floor heavy hard, body twisting as best as he can manage to see her vacillating between her needy open mouthed gaze and Zoro looking at him with an unusual intensity that’s also a hard heavy rush until his head is a scrambled whisk between the two of them. Sanji quakes. He strains. He forgets to breathe as Zoro finally decides to make use of his other hand and he feels a damn delicious squeeze to his sac, a gasp, a near hiccup that makes him temporarily disoriented, his abdomen tight, hot, nerves firing off bubbling and boiling over until he _does_ feel his back arc clear off the floor.

“N-” He thinks of Nami. “N-“ He also thinks of Zoro, both images molding behind his tightly shut eyes until the only thing that escapes him as he comes is a half stuttered “N-Noro…” He feels hot come splash his stomach, starts to feel the slow drizzle inside, outside, and he drops back down with a heavy exhaled breath just as Zoro unceremoniously dumps him on his side with a loud indignant yell of  “Who’s are you calling slow?!” at almost the same time as Nami screams at Usopp “who said you could come?!” Sanji barely has the presence of mind to register words the entire scene feeling completely surreal as Chopper muses aloud that he was expecting there to be a knot. 

Sanji hisses, face barely avoiding the floor and he turns to Zoro sore, pissed, foot planting square in his chest only to be caught by some stupid meaty paw.

“Calling you, mosshead,” he snaps back automatically just as Nami sends a vase flying at Usopp’s head knocking him clear off the hammock with a disoriented warble of “I thought it was part of the deal” before he lands with a loud thud. And it’s that _thud_ that draws all their attention to the lone figure still presumably asleep, no longer snoring softly in the background, the silence pindrop poignant. Sanji turns to Nami just as she slams the door shut quickly adding one more sound to a situation he _really_ doesn’t want to have to explain. He’s thankful at least that the plunge into darkness buys a few moments for all of them to scramble and get back like nothing happened. That is if Zoro would let go of his damn foot already. _All the battles we’ve been in, all the fights, and_ _now_ _you freeze?! You worthless, shitty-_

“Zoro?” It’s Luffy’s voice clear as day if half sleep slurred and Sanji shakes his leg trying to get Zoro to let go of him. There’s a silence that elapses as Sanji swears under his breath and impatiently waits for his eyes to adjust to see if Luffy’s staring right back at them. _Just answer him already, you idiot!_

It almost seems that Zoro hears him telepathically or he finally gets a clue in that moment. It’s hardly poetry. When he stammers back a voice cracking “what?” Sanji nearly smacks his own forehead. Of course the very next words out of Luffy’s mouth are “what’re y’doing?” _Lie. Lie. C’mon…_

“The stupid cook fell out of bed,” Zoro answers and Sanji can practically _feel_ his smirk in the near pitch blackness. He grits his teeth. _Calm. Stay calm._ “So I thought I’d help him up before he hurt himself.” Smug. So fucking smug is how Zoro sounds just daring him to contradict the stupidity. Sanji readies his free leg about to kick that stupid smirking head off. _There’s no way he’s gonna buy something that fucking stupid you damn shitty mosshead s-_

“’kay.” Except that he does and Sanji nearly faints when Zoro finally lets go of his leg. 

He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding as he stands, legs like jelly, ass sore, well fucked, and as humiliating as this is. As ridiculous as he feels he can’t help but… …but notice that Zoro has stood as well heat radiating off and in spite of himself Sanji swallows hard having no earthly idea why he feels another stir of arousal. 

“I need to piss,” he says suddenly, brilliantly because he will be _damned_ if Zoro’s stupid mouth will have him sleeping like this all night. He’s boneless enough that he very well might fall off the mast but as he gathers his clothes and haphazardly throws on his pants  -probably inside out- he still thinks it’s better than the alternative. Sanji breathes a sigh of relief hearing no further query from Luffy, hearing Usopp start to stir with a groan and he thanks whatever God is watching that the worst is over. Zoro can deal with his own damn mess, he thinks as starts feeling around on his hand and knees for his cigarettes and Zoro can-

“Sanji-“ He freezes hearing Luffy’s voice one more time a helluva lot more awake than it was a moment ago. He swallows hard. He knew that was too damn easy.

“..y-yeah?”

“Next time you have meat don’t keep it all to yourself.”

 

The sounds of multiple bodies dropping reverberates throughout the entire ship including even Nami ear pressed to the other side of the closed emergency door. And up on deck, Robin chuckles softly, retracting the last eye from the men’s room as she discreetly crosses a leg and goes back to her long forgotten book. The Straw Hats, she thinks, are turning out to be far more interesting than she ever imagined.

 


End file.
